


The Mockingbird's Song

by petyrbaaaeeelish



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Corruption, Drama, F/M, Implied Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark, Seduction, Slow Burn Romance, Smut, expect the unexpected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-15 00:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyrbaaaeeelish/pseuds/petyrbaaaeeelish
Summary: Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.





	1. A Song of Innocence

The sound of heavy footfalls outside my door released me from my cheerless solitude. A key pierced through the golden lock and then erupted, before my door swung open to allow a shadow to slip through. In the candlelight, Lord Baelish's tired, forlorn face was revealed; deep lines etched beneath his grey-green eyes as he stared back at me.

"I'm not going to hurt you, sweetling," he whispered, as he sat down at the edge of my bed. His fingers ran through my disheveled sheets, as he murmured, "I imagine you are growing quite lonely by now. Locked away in your room for days... without a soul to speak too. But, I want you to know that I am your friend, and I only want what's best for you."

Petyr leaned himself further back, until the bed gave way to his additional weight with a serious of creaks and groans. Petyr ignored them, he simply laid his hand close to my own and continued, "At this very moment, the Queen is offering a lordship for the price of your head. Your husband is rotting away in some prison cell awaiting his execution. But you, my dear, are sailing away from harm's way undetected by Lannister spies, but that all could change if I let you freely walk around my ship alone, so you must understand the reason I am keeping you locked away in this room."

Lord Baelish leaned in closer, until he was almost a breath away. He whispered, "Do you remember what the Lannister's did to your father? The way they butchered your mother and brother at the Red Wedding. Don't let that be your fate, as well."

He lifted my hand off the bed, and held it in his own comfortingly. Ever so gently, Petyr, rubbed my cold fingers until heat gradually penetrated my frozen bones. He lifted my chin up with his other free hand, and said, "I am taking you home, Sansa, just as I promised. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, Lord Baelish."

"Call me Petyr," he said. His eyes seemed to darken like the night sky, as he uttered those fateful words. They darkened even more when he asked, "Now, that is worthy of a kiss, wouldn't you agree?"

Before I knew it, Petyr drew my face towards his own and kissed me. As our lips parted, Petyr gave me one last longing full look, before he abruptly fled for the door, and vanished like a phantom into the night.

* * *

The brightness of the morning sun awakened me from my silent slumber. Stretching myself out across the bed, I could feel the frosty air clinging to my limbs, and the howling wind slamming against my circular window. Winter is here. Climbing out of bed, I sprinted towards the ebony chest, and pulled out a long woolen cloak to shut out the cold. Petyr gave it to me the day he smuggled me out of King's Landing. The day he stole the serpent's nectar off my neck and smashed it's head with the hilt of his dagger. The day he steadied me in his arms, before adorning me in a frosty grey cloak. "Your safe now," he whispered to me in the cover of night. He had stayed true to his word- for now, at least.

Ringing my fingers through long auburn tresses, I made my way over to the wooden desk where a washbowl and a pitcher were stationed. Ice chunks bobbled at the bottom of the washbowl, reminding me of this never ending cold I've had to suffer through ever since I stepped aboard this ship nearly a week ago. Oh, how much I craved warmth now! My mind suddenly flashed back to the heat radiating from Petyr's fingers as he held my own, and the warmth from his lips as he kissed me in complete darkness- I splashed the water against my pale cheeks trying to cool off the burning sensation that came over me.

A gentle rap on the door recalled my thoughts. It was too early to have guests, and Lord Baelish only visited me at night. I feared whoever it was that rapped at her door. "Who is it?" I cried.

"Petyr," said the hoarse voice from the other side.

"Lord Baelish?" I asked, as I opened the door to let him in.

"I came to ask you- to see whether or not you'd like to spend the day with me?"

I was anxious to see the rest of the ship, and to escape this prison of a room. "Could I go above deck? I want to see the sea? Are we close to Winterfell?"

"No, sweetling. There is too much at risk."

"Yes, of course," I replied, trying to conceal the wave of disappointment that flooded me. Pursing my lips, I stared down at the cabin floor: white feet contrasting off the cabin'd floor. I could feel the cold air seeping its way into my skin, O, how I longed for warmth- I was frigid to the bone. "Only if your office is warmer than this room."

"I'm sure I can arrange something," he quipped. He turned away abruptly, but not before I noticed the dangerous glimmer in his grey-green eyes.

* * *

"Good morning," Petyr breathed, as he opened the door for me and beckoned me in. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

He was impeccably dressed in a forest green doublet; the richness of his doublet accented well with his furnished surroundings. Petyr's office was impeccable, just as I had suspected, but I was thrown off by the warmth as I stepped into his room. Sprawled across his desk was a loom, needle, and thread; all arranged for my comfort. I felt a hot hand press against the bottom of my back, as he lead me towards the desk. In a cheerful tone, he said, "I have a gift for you."

"Lord Baelish, you have already given me so much!"

"Petyr," he reminded me gently, before handing me a small present left at the side of his desk. I opened my hand to receive the dainty box, embellished with black and silver trimmings. After I untied the final bow, my eyes elated to see a box full of lemon cake.

"Oh, my favourite!"

A harmonious sound escaped Petyr, as he chuckled softly to himself. "I thought you'd like it."

"I do," I said sweetly, curling my hair around my finger with pleasure. "Thank you- Petyr."

His eyes darkened just like it had done the night before, when Petyr kissed me under the shadows of the night sky. I felt estranged under his longing full look of desire. Petyr must have sensed my uneasiness, for he offered me a small smile that did not match his eyes. "I have much work to do," he said, "but you may disturb me at anytime. Despite appearances, I am very desirous of your presence."

Oh, how those grey-green eyes looked at me now- so soft and full of warmth. Petyr's mask had momentarily slipped away. It was Petyr that looked at me now- not lecherous Littlefinger. It was the boy from the fingers, the friend of my mother that blessed me with a kindly, boyish grin, before he uttered, "I hope you desire mine too."

* * *

As a matter of fact, I did enjoy Petyr's quiet, unobtrusive presence, as I set myself to work with needle and thread in hand. I was so concentrated on my work that I had almost forgotten where I was, and who I was with- I shot a shy glance at Petyr and noticed the deep crinkles between his eyebrows as he studied the small scribbles across the page, and the messiness of his hair as he stroked long fingers through his luscious locks. It was only then, as I watched this kind, gentle stranger that I realized how truly happy I was. I must have studied him for a long time, for Petyr suddenly looked up and asked, "Need a distraction?"

"No, I- I simply needed a break," I stuttered. There was something about Petyr's look that unnerved me.

"Your welcome to read any of my books, if you like," Petyr replied. He rose out of his seat to scan the myriads of books along the walls and shelves of his office space.

"Oh, I thought they were all accounting books."

"Not all of them… here take this."

"The Songs of Westeros," I groaned aloud. Anger simmered low within my chest at the sight of the rose coloured book with glossy gold trimmings. It was meant for a child, and I was a child no longer. My experiences at King's Landing ensured I would never believe in those songs again; there are no gallant knights in the world, and no tragic hero's who sacrifice their life for their one true love. The world was filled with malicious boy kings that kill innocent women without a second thought, and beat them till red blood smears their pretty white dresses. Joffrey had taught her a valuable lesson she would never forget: Life is nothing like a song. Petyr had warned her of that long ago in King's Landing, when he pulled her aside and whispered, "Life is not a song, sweetling, one day you will learn it to your sorrow." If only I had heeded his advice, how many countless lives could have been saved, including my father's. "I don't believe in songs anymore," I said, and threw the book down on the desk to prove my point.

"There was a time when you were quite fond of them, Sansa," he pointed out. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost threatening to smile at my obvious displeasure of the child-like book.

"Those days are done now."

His voice was dripping like honey, as he suggested, "Then you might like this book instead. These are the songs that nobody sings, dearest, but you might like it all the same."

I placed the heavy leather book upon my lap, and licked my finger to turn the first page. "Read it aloud for me, Sansa, I want to hear you say it," Petyr asked, in a strangely compelling voice.

"But, I would not do it justice…"

"… try for me," he implored. He rose out of his seat, and stood before me now with his hands interlaced together in a methodical manner.

"Hidden beneath the towering trees, I'll graze your territory- lips wandering here and there, trailing down your sultry lines making it hard for you to bear…"

"What is the matter, Sansa?" he asked in a low tone noticing how I suddenly froze after the first stanza.

"I don't understand. These aren't the songs that bard's normally sing. They are far too…"

"Seductive?" Petyr asked in a strained voice. He sat atop of his desk with his legs spread wide open, the palms of his hands layed flat on the charcoal desk, the rings from his fingers glistened off the darkened surface. Aware of the immodesty and implications it gave to me, Petyr's lips curled to the side slightly, relishing the purple-stained cheeks flourishing across my face. "Sansa," he said, "Don't you know what happens between a man and a woman?"

"Of course! My septa told me," I said childishly. "And I almost experienced it with Tyrion!"

"Tyrion," Petyr chuckled, while stroking his pointy black beard.

"Yes, Tyrion," I drawled out to emphasis the matter.

"Count yourself lucky he did not touch you."

"Oh!" I said with annoyance, "And why is that?"

"I imagine his cock would be the size of my little finger," he teased.

"I don't see how size has anything to do with it!" I shot back, instantly regretting it the moment it flew out of my mouth.

"Oh, my sweet child, you know nothing," he drowned, "But I promise you- one day you will."

 


	2. A Bewitching Tune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

_And indeed, there will be time for the soot to pass, for I to soar above the blackened clouds of smoke, and ignore the wailful cries ringing in my ears. To pass through the shadows of the verdurous trees, and land on the white-stalked branches of the Weirwood tree. There will be time to see shadow-stalkers stumble their way to early graves, and to hear the long howl of a direwolf beckoning them home. There will be a time for me to fly, to soar above the towering trees and see the blackened ruins of the Stark's cherub; that amiable, honourable, antient seat befitting for the Kings of old. And so, I dive once more into a cloud of ash, but long black wires appear before my eyes, and enrapture my slender form- and with one sharp merciless tug it yanks me from the sky._

"Sansa!" a voice called out in the darkness. "Are you alright?"

"Petyr?" I chocked into the frosty night air, faintly recognizing the low tenor belonging to Lord Baelish.

"Yes."

With trembling hands, I reached out to touch the darkened figure until my fingers grasped at his arm with silent relief. "Petyr," I breathed into the sullen gloom, "I had such a terrible dream."

A long arm wrapped around my quivering frame, softly stroking the length of my arm in a soothing manner. "What was it about, Sansa?" he asked, in the softest tones.

"Home."

"Home?" he repeated, and tilted his head away from mine to study my white face and pale blue eyes. "Winterfell was not pleasant in your dreams? Not like how you saw it last?"

"No," I chocked. "Winterfell is gone."

I rested my pale cheek on the arm of Petyr's soft woolen coat, and it wasn't until I was perfectly nuzzled in his shade that I confessed: "I saw the shadows of my parents returning to their grave, and my brother- Robb quickly following the same fate. I saw so many things, Petyr, like I stepped through the gates of hell. It was all death and destruction! But that's all there is now, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Sansa."

"I know the Bolton's hold Winterfell! I've heard the whispers… what they've done to my mother and brother at the wedding," I confided into his sleeve. Suddenly, my hand began to beat against Petyr's arm, as the wound re-opened; anger kindled deep inside my bones, igniting a fire which threatened to blaze out of control.

"Sansa?" Petyr said with concern.

"I'm sorry! It's just that- I know I'll never be able to set foot on Winterfell again. Not when the Bolton's hold the fort. I am not ignorant, Petyr, I know that I am the last surviving Stark. I know that everyone wants me dead! But what I don't understand is why your willing to help me? And why do you promise to take me home- when you know I have no home to go too?"

"For now," he said softly. Petyr bowed his head a little closer, and whispered, "But there is a lot that can happen between now and never."

I eyed him suspiciously and asked, "Then you will keep your word? Even if there is nothing left for me to go home too?"

Petyr stroked his hands through my tightened curls, until it found a stray ringlet down my lower back. I could feel the heat of his hands sliding further down my spine, until it reached the very edge where the final button of my dressing gown resided. It was there that he drew small circles along my back, until I leaned into this new-found pleasure of his deft fingers trailing up and down my spine. Petyr in turn pushed down harder, until a loud moan escaped me as my back-arched forward. In a hoarse voice, Petyr replied, "For you, sweetling, I will keep my word. But only if you keep yours."

His fingers ceased its wandering movements, and instead planted itself at the bottom of my spine. I turned towards him now, and was surprised to see how close our face was to each other. I could feel his steady breathe on my brow, and the lingering scent of mint in the air. In a small voice I asked, "What must I keep?"

"You must promise me that once we step off this boat you will no longer be Sansa Stark, but my bastard daughter, Alayne Stone."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see you safe. I want to see you happy," he drawled. "I want to see you to reign at Winterfell, and be herald as the Queen of the North. But, the only way to do that is if you trust me completely. Could you do that for me?"

I blinked up at him, deliberating whether Petyr was a man to be trusted. He was asking for a great deal, but was I not asking for too much as well? I wanted to go home, and if Petyr wished the same thing for me as well, wouldn't it be better to just go along with his plans? But he wanted me to be his daughter- a bastard daughter too. "Alayne Stone," I chanted under my breath, it felt foreign to my tongue.

"It was my mother's name," Petyr uttered in a small voice similar to my own.

Petyr's face was riddled with pain as he looked down at me. "It means beautiful," he murmured. "I think it suits you well."

I slipped my hands into Petyr's limp one and gave it a meaningful squeeze. "Of course, father," I purred into his ear. "Why else would name me Alayne?"

Petyr eyes widened at this statement, a small chuckle escaped the corner of his mouth as he looked away. "Well, aren't you full of surprises today?" he muttered under his breath.

"Aren't I always?" I teased.

He looked back at me, and for a moment he carefully considered my frosty blue eyes with deliberation. He apparently liked what he saw, for he smiled while saying, "With my wits and Cat's beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling."

* * *

 

I blinked open my languid eyes to see a silver mockingbird pin glistening against a black woolen cloak. With the back of my hand I rubbed the shutters of my weary eyes, before I blinked them open again, and sure enough Petyr's pin mockingly stared back at me in the dim morning light.  _I don't understand,_  I thought, as I moved further back in the bed only to find myself thwarted by the long wings of his cloak; capable arms maintained a tight hold around my slender waist. Baffled by this predicament I tried to wriggle out of his hold, but I found my legs mercilessly entangled with Petyr's underneath the sheets. A small simper escaped me, as I began to realize the inevitable- I could not escape from Petyr's mighty grasp.  _We are bound to each other now,_  I thought, as I settled my aching head on the off-white sheets and stared at Petyr's pin pensively.

 _My mother would be ashamed,_  I mused, while my eyes burrowed into the mocking pin. I was in bed with a man- a man who was not my husband.  _I should_   _have asked Petyr to leave,_  I thought, while biting my lip with frustration. I intended too, but the nightmare seem to wash over me again and I found I could not part from Petyr's tender embrace.

With a long sigh, I inclined my head upwards until I could see my captor's face. In the dwindling light I could not see clearly, so I squirmed in his grip till I could at last see Petyr's physiognomy. In the dim light I studied his long eyelashes and the way they curled effortlessly, his well-defined check bones, and the sharp precision of his goatee; but the pale rosy hue of his lips captivated me most of all.  _Petyr did not kiss me last night,_  l thought bitterly, unaware of how much I missed his tender kisses. Slowly I leaned in, until his lips were but a breath away, and then I pecked them lightly with my own. Petyr's lids suddenly flew open; grey-green austere-like eyes locked onto mine. "Sansa?" he asked, in a voice that was not quite his own.

Fear grasped me like iron fetters, freezing me into place under his mystifying gaze.  _He's bewitching me_ , I contemplated, as I felt his hand slither up my spine until it reached the back of my nape. Slowly he leaned forward, until his visage was blurred in my line of vision.

"What's in a kiss?" Petyr asked with uncertainty. His lips touched mine gently, so softly it was barely a kiss. I licked my lips, wishing for more- something to hold onto instead of that feeble one he gave. Petyr must have sensed how discontent I was for he whispered, "Nothing," before he leaned in to take my lips eagerly.

I leaned further into his formidable frame, and to both of our surprise, I kissed him right back. Petyr laid flat on his back, and I crawled over him like some wanton whore until I our faces were barely touching. I graced him with light, sloppy kisses denoting my own naïveté experience in the art of kissing. Petyr enjoyed it all the same, for I felt the corner of his mouth curl into a lopsided smile as I trailed my lips around it. I leaned back to catch my breath, and gazed into his sublime eyes- mossy green with specks of grey circling 'round his blackened orbs.  _I should say something,_  I thought, as we lay perfectly still for a moment, with nothing but our breathing to break the silence. I opened my kiss-swollen lips, but no words would come out, it seemed to dwindle away in the eternal silence.

Petyr's hands feverishly moved down my slender form, until he suddenly squeezed my ass. I instinctively hissed into his ear, shocked by his immodest gesture. "Petyr!" I cried with horror, before shifting my body away from his formidable grasp, though it did little to ease the tenseness of his grip. I cast him a threatening glower, and he responded in turn by lifting his eyebrows in a playful manner.

"Forgive me," he muttered, before his hands cascaded down my sides and smacked the bed. "I forget how young you are…"

"I'm not young!" I snapped back. I could feel my cheeks blazing from the sudden embarrassment of it all, and it only grew worse as I considered Petyr's subtle insult. I was torn- was it wrong for Petyr to touch me this way?

"I should go," Petyr said through gritted teeth. Ever so slightly he lifted me into the air, and lay me down beside him. He then rolled out of bed and made his way to the door.

"Wait!" I breathed, but the words hardly escaped my mouth before he was out the door; a violent shake resounded across my room after Petyr slammed the door behind him. I cursed under my breath, while pounding a balled fist into the pillow beside me. I hated that insufferable locked door! The door that frequently stood in the way between Petyr and I. It was the lock- no the distance between us now, that made me want him even more.


	3. The Mockingbird's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

I rapped my fingers against the window pane in an agitated manner, while watching the sun slip out of the sky. It was getting late; the fateful hour was fast approaching- but will Petyr come with the night? And did I want him to come? My jaw tightened when I thought of what he had done, and what he said before he slammed the door behind him. "Hateful man!" I thought, as I rapped my nails against the glass window. All the same, I strode towards the ebony chest to make myself look presentable for the approaching hour. I unearthed a pearl-white sheer dress with silver embroidered leaves down the sleeves, waist and the center of my spine. I then brushed out my curly hair and braided it in an elaborate fashion, before settling the brush down at my desk. My hands idly fiddled with the brush, while I watched the shadows flicker across my lonely room, signaling the approachment of night. Suddenly, I heard a low chink of a key bursting through a lock, and the creaking of a door, before Petyr slipped past my bedroom door, locking it behind him. In his hand was a small woolen sack, which he dangled in his hand before he placed it neatly on my bed. It was only then that he looked at me. Petyr's large chest heaved with a quickened breath as his eyes drank me in.

"Lord Baelish," I said coldly.

"Sansa," he breathed. "I am so- so sorry."

"Are you?"

"I am. I shouldn't have touched you- not in that way."

"No! You shouldn't have," I said firmly. "I'm not one of your whores…"

"I would never think that of you," he said in a low voice. Slowly, he strode towards me until his darkened figure was illuminated in the golden sun. "Your so much more than that to me."

"I wish I could believe you."

"I once asked you to trust me," Petyr said in a strange tone. His eyes narrowed slightly as he added, "I ask for that same trust now."

"Tell me, Lord Baelish, why should I trust you?" I could feel anger boiling up inside of me, as memories from long ago came flooding back at me. "After all that you've done."

"Sansa, I am not a good man," he said, as he took another step forward; his small stature casting a long shadow across the floor. "But I am not a bad man either. Some of us fall neatly in between. You are wise not to trust me. Wiser than your father ever was! Trust is a weakness, that you northerns' hold far too dearly for my liking. Loyalty on the other hand, is entirely different. If you are so reluctant to trust me than I ask that you stay loyal to me. Loyal as a daughter is to her father. As a wife is to her husband? Could you do that for me?"

"Loyalty?" I sneered. "Loyalty cannot be bought, Petyr, it must be earned."

"Now you really sound like your father!" he said in jest. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he added, "I have learned there are only two things that really drive a man: women and gold. I am fortunate to have both, and I use them like pawns in a game to get my own way- to reach my own goal."

"And what is that?"

"That- I can never tell," he drawled, his brogue heavier than ever. "But you are right about one thing- loyalty must be earned."

I smiled proudly at him, it was high time Petyr acknowledges that I am almost as clever as him. My smile quickly fell from my lips when Petyr noted, "So you will understand the reason I will never touch you again, not unless you  _desire_  me too."

"What? I don't understand…"

"What don't you understand?"

"Isn't that a little extreme?"

"Is it?"

"I don't mind you touching me," I confessed, already feeling my cheeks turning an unnatural hue of red. "Just not in that particular way- not yet. And you were right, Petyr, I am young. Not in age, but with experience, especially when it comes to certain things that happen between a man and a woman. And sometimes- sometimes I forget you're a brothel keeper."

"And I forget you're a virgin," he said slyly.

"Yes, well…" I stuttered. My throat went dry, and I felt like the air was escaping my lungs as Petyr took another step towards me.  _Gods, why must he stare at me that way_ , I thought, as Petyr drew closer to my trembling form until he was a breath away. "I…"

"Yes, sweetling?" Petyr was drawing me in, like a spider weaving a web, it was only a matter of time before I was ensnared in his silver silky strings.

"I think…"

"Yes," he droned. "I thought the same thing."

I opened my mouth to give him a clever retort, but his lips swooped down and pressed hard against it. Each kiss was fervent and fierce, as if he was starved of the taste- desirous of the feeling of his lips on mine. "Oh, Sansa," he breathed, as he drew his lips away for a moment.

"Petyr, I can't give you what you want?" I said through quickened breaths.

Petyr replied by kissing my lips slowly, stretching out a single kiss to make it last for an eternity.  _He's teasing me_ , I thought, as his hands fled down the length of my spine and bunched up the folds of my dress in the palm of his hand. He quickened the pace of his kisses, encouraging me to join into his fanciful game. He knew it was only a matter of time, till I gave in. My body began to shudder from his touch, every atom in my body craved more of it; desire struck me like a lightening bolt, a strange frenzy took over me as his lips continued to draw me in. But if I give in to my desire- will I be able to stop myself from going to far? "Please, Petyr, I need more time!"

Petyr leaned back, licking his lips in a teasing manner. "We all the time in the world, love."

"Yes, well…" I stammered. My head felt light and dizzy, as though the room was spinning around in circles.  _What is he doing to me_ , I wondered, noticing the most sacred places of my body began to ach in pain.

"Let me know when you remember your train of thought," Petyr taunted. He took my hand and led me towards the mysterious sack that sat upon the bed. "I've brought a present for you."

"Peytr," I said with annoyance. I knew that sly smile all to well, he was just buttering me up.

"We have long days ahead of us, or as you northerns like to say,  _Winter is Coming_. I can only hope this present will make your travels more comfortable." He pulled out a long winter cloak, and held it up before my eyes hoping to win approval. The style and cut of the cloak was similar to his own, which he currently dawned on this cold autumn evening. I was pleased to find that my cloak had a hood and a thick fur collar to shut out the cold. Petyr must have sensed I was pleased, for he went around me and draped the cloak over my shoulders. "My daughter shall have the very best."

I looked down marveled at the intricate details embroidered into the sleeves, the complexities of the clasp that ran down my chest, and how the cloak fit me perfectly, too perfectly- as if he knew my exact measurements. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, a silent question unwilling to escape my lips, as if in answer Petyr shot me a knowing smile before turning away.

"I have one last thing to give you." He was unable to contain his excitement now, as he pulled out a tiny box with green and black trimmings; denoting the infamous colour of his house. "I hope my daughter will wear it proudly."

I took off the lid and found a silver mockingbird pin. I gasped aloud, before I pulled it out of the box and held it high in the air. Holding it between my thumb and index finger I watched it glisten in the sun's golden rays, noticing how the eye sparkled with malice at the approachment of night.  _It was beautiful._

"Do you like it?"

"I do." I breathed. The more I looked at it, the more the silver pin seemed to claim me as its own.  _It's just as bewitching as Petyr is_ , I contemplated, as my finger ran up and down the curious pin. "It's beautiful."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes." To prove my words were true I closed the awkward gap between us, until there was barely any space between our own shadowy forms. The room darkened, as my tall stature blocked out the last beams of light from my cabin window. The air was stifled, tense, as if it awaited an impending doom- a moment that could alter our fates all together. "I love it."

"Sansa," Petyr said in a raspy voice. "I have one last present for you, but you must allow me to take your hand. Will you me give me the honour?"

"Of course, I will." He reached for my hand, and to my surprise he interlaced our fingers together. The act was strangely intimate, it sent a rush of blood to my head. He gently tugged me away from the last of the light, and steered me across the darkened room till we reached my door.

"Pull up your hood. I can't risk someone recognizing that famous auburn hair of yours," he teased. With a gentle peck on my cheek, he turned and led me out the door.

A blast of cold air hit my face the moment I stepped out onto the open deck. I leaned into Petyr's frame, as the wind flapped my thick winter cloak with envy. We slowly made our way to the edge of the deck, before leaning against the banister to look out at the open sea. "It's beautiful," I breathed, as I marveled at the purple sky and burnt orange sun melting into a sea of glass.

"I thought you'd like it," he whispered. Petyr leaned his back against the banister. His great arms spread out across the railing; long sleeves flapping in the wind, mimicking the wings of a large black bird. Unconsciously, I stroked the silver mockingbird pin at my neck. "Do you know how a mockingbird chooses its mate?"

"Like any other bird," I teased.

"No," he replied, in a serious tone. "In the daytime they sing songs, all sorts of songs- mimicking other birds around them. But not one note rings true, it's just an allusion to draw them near. But once the sun finally sets- and the stars twinkle across the night sky, will the mockingbird sing its own song, a strange- almost enchanting melody. It is strange…"

"What is?"

"Only then does its true mate appear," he said. The lids of his eyes shut, and his head lowered to the ground. I watched his black curls shake in the wind, and his silver temples imitating the moon's pale rays; he looked handsome under the blazing sky.

"I want to hear your song." I stepped towards him, and slowly enraptured him in my tight embrace. My fingers stroked through his long raven locks, and my cheek nuzzled against his own until there was no space between us. "I want to hear you sing."

"You might not like what I have to say," he droned into my ear.

"No, your wrong," I confided.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because- because I love you," I breathed.

Petyr dropped his arms to his side and stepped away from my embrace. With pursed lips he tilted his head slightly to see the moon's rays illuminate my face. I noticed his eyes began to soften the longer he looked at me. Suddenly, the lids of his eyes shut, cutting out the perceptibly of his emotions that was so often seen in his grey-green eyes. In a strained voice he asked, "Is this true?"

I stepped into his shade and kissed those lips that I have learned to adore. They melted into mine, just as the sun had done to the night sky.  _This feels right,_  I thought, while my cold hands wrapped around his solid frame and pulled him closer into mine. "Yes, its true," I confided, my mouth kissing around the sharp curve of his ear.

I thought I heard Petyr inhale a quick breath. "Oh, Sansa," he whispered, soft kisses trailed the length of my neck. His voice was high pitched, almost filled with ecstasy as he said, "Oh my sweet, sweet Sansa."

His trembling fingers ran through the length of my hair, forcing the braids to unravel out of place and cascade down my back. Like my hair, Petyr was unraveling me- making me want him more than words could ever say. The sharp sucking against my skin, the soft scrapping of his teeth down the length of my neck, the way his nails dug into my scalp set a fire within me. Desire, it made my hands tremble and my breath quicken at an ungodly pace. "Oh, Petyr!" I moaned as his lips caressed the sharp bone along my collar bone, as his fingers worked hard to unclasp my cloak. Desire, it made me rub myself harder against his frame, keenly aware of the warmth spreading between my legs the harder I pushed. Desire, it flamed like an uncontrollable fire as Petyr nibbled at my raw, icy skin. "Petyr please," I groaned. "Touch me anyway you like."

"Sansa, you know I can't…"

"Please, don't argue. Just for once in your life do as your told!" I barked back. The aching was getting worse, the more Petyr's lips wandered below my collar bone.

Petyr shot me a coy smile, while glancing up at my contorted face. "Oh, my sweet child, you've seen nothing yet."

"Then show me!" Feeling brash, I clutched his wrists and pulled them down my sides until it reached the bottom of my hips. I was not afraid of what could come next- not anymore.

"I don't touch my whores," he said, the thought seemed to come out of nowhere. "There just business… I take no pleasure in them."

"At this moment I really don't care."

"Yes, but you said I treated you like one of my whores-"

"Petyr, I was angry with you!" I interrupted, wishing he would drop the subject entirely and just kiss me already.

"I know. In the end, you had every right to be. If I ever make you feel uncomfortable again, tell me and I will stop. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes, I promise." A violent storm rolled across the night sky now; the clouds darkened, the crescent moon veiled from our view, a mournful wind howled across the deck.  _Is this a warning_ , I thought, as the vengeful wind came 'round again to knock us off our feet for a moment.

"Sansa," Petyr yelled into my ear, trying to deafen out the low howling of the wind. "Do you have any idea how much I care for you?"

"Enough for you to smuggle me out of King's Landing," I taunted.

Petyr chuckled under his breath. He moved his face away so that he could see me, only then did he utter, "I do care for you. More than you could ever know."

"You know most people say, 'I love you,'" I gibed.

"I'm not like most people."

"No, you're a mockingbird," I replied. I paused for a moment to consider those dark grey-green eyes reflecting the stormy skies. "But you're  _my_  mockingbird."

Petyr unexpectedly picked me up, and I let out a shriek as he carried me across the wooden deck. Steadily he carried me down the wooden steps, looking around to see if anyone was there, before he continued his long jaunt down the narrow halls. It wasn't until I was outside my cabin door that he set me down next to his own weary frame. "Your getting to old for this," I said mockingly, noticing the quick laboured breaths that escaped him now.

"I am nearly twice your age," he pointed out. I noticed his accent had slightly changed, it was rougher, almost like the northern dialect but it was thickly laced with something else- something new.

"It's alright, Petyr, I like older men."

"Is that so?" he asked. A mischievous smile played upon his face, the moment he penetrated the lock with his golden key.

"I've heard they're more experienced. At least that's what Margaery said."

"And she would know," he said slyly. "The amount of times she's snuck into my brothels."

My mouth gaped open in surprise, which made Petyr chuckle under his breath. The wooden door burst open, and with one sharp merciless tug he pulled me into the darkened room.


	4. A Song of Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of my PxS shippers that have been following me for the past few months on fanfiction.net has requested that I upload "The Mockingbird's Song" on AO3 instead, since that is where all you lovely Petyr Baelish fans seem to be lol.
> 
> To all of you my new followers who have just discovered this story I hope you enjoy the ride. Please don't be alarmed if I post multiple chapters at once. I am just trying to catch up with my original story line on fanfiction.net so everything will coincide with one another. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the climb!
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish

 “I’m cold,” I confessed, as I stood there naked in my room. I shivered in the coolness of night, anxiously waiting for Petyr’s lips to return to mine, for his scorching hot hands to seep into my frozen skin. Petyr was imperceptible, his silent figure hidden within the shadows, which lingered long in my room on this dark, stormy night.

“Then let me warm you,” Petyr replied. His infallible hands returned to smooth down my icy skin, and enrapture me in his warm embrace. “How’s that?”

“Better,” I breathed into the nook of his neck. His hands circled around my slender waist, drawing heat to the center of my body, flushing it upward till it reached the bottom of my breasts. His hands froze, aware he had reached a boundary, though he wished to trespass this unforbidden territory like a thief in the night. I saw the way his eyes darkened, glazed over with lustful desire, and yet, his hands remained where it was- fixed on the borderline of my voluptuous breasts. “It’s okay, Petyr,” I said, before I reached for his hand and guided it upward, till his hand was nuzzled between them. “I trust you.”

His hand began to wander, curiously feeling the soft swell and fall of my full ripening breasts; climbing up its mountain peak: frigid and bare- unbeknown to anyone but him. He was the first to kiss it, to let his lips trail along the ivory mountain, tasting the mounds of snow. The crescent moon unexpectedly appeared in the night sky, sending a brilliant ray of light into my room, and it was there that I saw Petyr for the first time: black-raven locks dishevelled and hanging down his face, as he continued to stoop over to press his lustrous lips upon my mountain peak. The light caught his attention, and he looked up at me with brilliant black eyes. A shadow cast across the side of his face, while the other was illuminated in light. He looked like a _god_ , a god of darkness- of night; bourne from the gates of hell itself. O, and how he looked at me at that moment! Eyes burning like hot embers, impenetrable to most, but I could see the sweltering flames of passion, desire, carnal lust held within his orbs.

His snowy white hands hurriedly unclasped his jetty cloak, before he tossed it to his feet. His great golden doublet was scrunched firmly in his hand as if he detested the very thing, no longer was the fine fabric and mockingbird pin his object of desire. Like a snake sheds his skin, Petyr pulled off his doublet in a slow, painful fashion, allowing me enough time to see the infamous scar that severed his smooth, ivory skin. In a blink of an eye, his clothes were gone and he stood before me naked as the day he was born, and yet, it was a man’s body that I saw: well toned and firm, with pale, sallow like skin that had never seen the light of day; his hair was wild like raven’s feathers fluttering about in the cool breeze, and the scar that pierced through his chest made him look dangerous, like the untamed animal he seemed to be as he grabbed a hold of my hand and led me to bed.

The moon hid behind the coal-black skies, as if its mighty rays feared to see our carnal desire. Petyr sunk lower into my delicate frame. His wet, slick kisses glided down my face, while he eased his way into me. Ever so gently, he pushed his weight down on me, as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear. I could feel the pressure- the tightness, which made me wish to recoil from the persistent pressure upon my sex. His hands worked around my body, fluttering around like a wild frantic bird, fearful that I would slip away at any moment. His luscious lips lathered my mouth, and his tongue slipped its way into my sphere- my garden of exotic fruit, tasting of sweet lemon and ripe pomegranates. I felt a throbbing inside of me now, as he pushed himself in deeper, and all at once, pain gave way to pleasure. I let out a sharp exhale, my knees buckled, my hip jutted further down into the bed. I breathed, and yet, each breathe escaped me quicker than ever before as slammed into me. The coil of the bed creaked, drowning out the howling wind outside my cabin window. “You must be quiet, love,” he whispered into my ear. “This next part… it may make you want to scream out my name.”

“Oh, you would like that wouldn’t you,” I retorted.

“More than you could ever know,” he said slyly. All was quiet, but for a moment, until he thrust himself inside of me at an unyielding pressure, ramming into the barrier with such force that I let out a sharp whine, a suppressed scream as I bit down at my lips with teary eyes. Again, and again, and again he stormed his way through, and all the pressure bottled inside of me like a bottle of champagne threatening to burst. His lips were my balm, O, it was my succor as he covered my kiss-swollen lips with his own. So dark and fierce were his kisses, a hunger seemed to drive him, as if he could never be satisfied with its taste. He growled out my name, before he bit down hard on my neck and nibbled at the raw skin. I stretched out my neck to allow him more access, it felt so good- why did it feel so good? He forced his way into me again, and then suddenly I felt like the clouds could break open and the rain could beat down on the ship and the sailors would still hear me scream- for I did scream now in pure, unmolested ecstasy as Petyr reached his peak. “Shhh!” he said, and covered my lips quickly to prevent any further incursion. I moaned into his mouth, for it was too much to pressure to bear on my own. Petyr remained inside of me, while his body grew limp and laid atop of my mine. I kissed his smooth ivory cheek, and watched as it fell against my collar bone and then nuzzle firmly against my neck. I could feel his heart beating, thrashing out from his lean frame. “Oh, Sansa! My sweet, sweet Sansa,” he murmured into the darkness.

“I know, Petyr, you don’t have to say it,” I hushed, as my fingers stroked through his divine-like locks. I knew it by the way he stroked his finger down my frame and the gentle kisses he showered across my neck that he loved me. He didn’t have to say it in words, for his amorous looks and affectionate gestures said it all.

“I should pull myself out now,” he groaned, his lips brushing against my neck as he said it. “But I want to stay in you for a little while longer.”

“Of course, you do,” I mused aloud, while stroking his hair away from his face.

“I belong in you, just as you belong to me,” he contemplated.

“Is that so?” I asked, noticing he was pushing himself in deeper again. My hips bulked from the newfound pressure, my sex throbbing as Petyr forced himself into my frame.

“Oh, Sansa! This is right! This is where I should be,” he growled into my ear.

A sweet sensation came over me, sending me on a high, in which I never wanted to come back down. I let out a loud moan, unable to stifle my cries any further. Suddenly, he thrust into me so hard I screamed, “Oh, god! Petyr! I- can’t- take- it- anymore! No, please, for the love of god stop! PEEETTTTYYYRRR!”

“Shhhhhh!” he answered back. He paused to smother me with kisses, and to wipe the tears streaming from my eyes.

“Oh, Petyr!” I wailed, while shaking my head in distress. “You truly are a wicked man!”

“Oh, my sweet Sansa,” he breathed, while his thumb brushed across my glossy lips. “You did well, truly.”

“It’s so hard,” I groaned. “I- I just want to…”

“Another time, perhaps, when I don’t have over a hundred sailors on my ship who are familiar with the sound of a wench screaming. Come, come, Sansa, don’t be so distressed. Here let me make it better,” he said slyly, before he planted me with a kiss, but this time it was slow and steady, drawing out each kiss till I moaned with pleasure. “Now, there’s a good girl.”

“I’m not a girl!” I shot back.

“No, you’re a woman. How else could I managed to be so deep inside of you,” He teased, and to prove his point he pushed into me again.

“Petyr, please!” I whimpered. My nails dug down his back, unable to take anymore of it.

Petyr eased himself now, resting his aching body over mine. Sweat was dripping down his spine, pooling around his lower back, and beading around his chest. He was hot to the touch, like a blazing fire on a hot summer night. His hair was damp, as was his forehead and cheek which he pressed against my own. In a soothing voice he said, “When your so close to me- like you are now, I get the feeling that are fates are tied together. Intricately knotted, never to be torn apart.”

I grunted in reply, feeling slightly puzzled by Petyr’s manner of speech, and the way he intertwined our fingers together to emphasis his point.

“You are the light to my darkness, and I am the darkness to your light,” he said in a chilling voice. He leant down to kiss me lightly on my forehead. While he brushed my auburn tresses away from my sweaty brow he whispered, “Remember that, Sansa, always.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always felt this chapter was a weird one. I was trying to show the strangeness of Sansa losing her virginity, and how odd the experience must have felt for her. Rest assure, Sansa will slowly become corrupted and then the true smut begins ;) Just hang in there for a little while longer.
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish


	5. Lover's Quarrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

I blinked open my eyes to see the sunlight blaze through my foggy window. The glass was tinted with mist, but I could still see the brilliant blue sky above and something else- something new.

A light splash of water quickened my thoughts, and I turned away from the window, towards the water basin which often sat upon my desk. It was there that I saw Petyr dipping his hands into the frigid water, before he splashed it upon his face, letting the water drip down his nose and chin. He let the water swim around his luscious locks as well, smoothing it down with careful precision. He patted himself down with a grey towel, before he folded it neatly next to the basin, as if he had never touched it at all.

Petyr was still putting on his golden rings when I wrapped my arms around his sturdy frame, noticing the heat radiating from his chest. His doublet half-opened, allowed me to feel the deep ridges of his scar, the parting line that cut across his chest; it all felt so surreal to be feeling the rough folds of his skin at the break of dawn.

"Good morning, love," he breathed, before he leaned back further into my frame.

"Morning, Petyr," I hushed. I began to graze his neck with kisses. Petyr ceded, and allowed me to wander down the nape of his neck towards the hollowed crest of his collar bone. I trailed along his lines zealously, as if he was a precious monument made of pure ivory and gold. I worshipped him with a shower of kisses: taking in this seraphic being- this fallen angel, basking in the warm flavescent light. Grey-green eyes denuded me completely the moment he turned around to face me.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, before his nimble hands took a hold of my waist and pulled me in. His kisses were hot and fierce, mad with passion, making my legs grow weak and a wetness pool between my leg. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck aggressively and pressed myself closer to his chest, fully aware that I was still naked from the night before. Petyr was full of desire now, I could sense it by the way his hands wandered down my spine. He broke away to say in a strained voice: "Anymore of this and I'll have to bed you again."

"Then do it," I purred into his ear. My thumb grazed across his sharp jawline, feeling the sharp stumbles of hair threatening to grow in along his chin.

"What?" he said in disbelief. "What happened to that sweet, innocent girl that I once knew?"

I merely smiled at him and pecked my lips lightly on his nose. If he wished to dissuade me he would need to try harder, for I was quite determined to have him again before the day was done.

"Where has she gone?" he asked, once I took hold of his hand and dragged him into bed.

"She's gone," I said bluntly, as I leaned back on the bed.  _Just take me already_ , I thought, as I bit my lips up at him.

"I've corrupted you," he drawled out with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. Petyr placed one leg upon the bed, while the other remained planted on the floor. He leaned forward with a thin wiry smile as his eyes took in my nakedness. "Seven Hells! Anymore of this and I will have no other choice but to bed you."

Petyr narrowed his eyes at me, as I curled my long auburn locks around my finger. "Sansa, don't make this any harder for me."

"Petyr," I purred, and sat up on my knees so I could arch my back forward. I let my fingers glide through my tousled hair before I let it fall down my chest and down my sides in a seductive manner. I finished it off with a coy smile and a come-hither stare.

"Fuck," he said under his breath, before he looked down at the foe that betrayed him. His hardened cock could be seen through his trousers, it became worse once he realized I was staring at it as well.

"Petyr," I murmured, while rubbing the bed sheets in front of me in a tempting manner.

"Innocence lost," he mumbled under his breath. He lifted his head slightly in the air and he let his eyes squint a little while studying me; after a moment of contemplation Petyr stated, "You're a woman now, Sansa, a woman of  _experience_."

"Yes- well- I have you to blame for that."

"This is just the beginning," he said in a curious tone. A mischievous smile suddenly appeared on his lips, causing unknown lines to crease across his face and small dimples to grace his cheeks. He stroked his short pointy beard while he mused aloud, "You have no idea what I want to do to you, Sansa. You have no idea how I want to  _make you_   _feel_." The rest of Petyr's words trembled on his lips, but the words were unsaid. He was too busy smiling at the fact that I snapped my legs closed and bit my lip down hard at him as he taunted me with the unknown. The aching pain between my legs was getting worse as he leaned forward and licked his lips slowly at me. "Unfortunately, now is not the time for such things."

He strode over to my desk to pick up his heavy winter cloak. After retrieving it, Petyr returned to my side and draped it over my shoulders with a tender kiss. "Come, I have something to show you," he whispered into my ear. He led me to my foggy window covered with the morning dew, and with one swipe of his hand he wiped it clean. He pointed out the crystal-clear window and instructed me to look through it. My eyes took time to adjust to the brightness but when it did I could see the open sea and land: rolling green hills and great white cliffs. Overhead a sea birds dove from the cliffs into the turquoise water, while hundreds of silver coloured birds fluttered gracefully across the blushful welkin. It truly was a beautiful sight to behold after weeks of not seeing anything but the sea.

"We've reached The Fingers," Petyr observed in a soothing voice. "We have a few more days journey until we reach home."

"Your home?"

"Yes," he said gravely.

"You're not happy to go home?"

"It's been over ten years now. A lot has changed."

"For the better?" I asked, while interlacing our fingers together.

"For the better," he concurred. He squeezed my hand affectionately to prove his words were true.

"I wish- I wish we didn't have to go to the Vale," I said in a small voice. "I wish we could just sail far away, and never look back."

"And where would we go?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"No, sweetling," he said softly. His gaze had left the window and turned to me. "But you know that cannot be."

"Must we go?" I asked nervously. "Must you marry my Aunt Lysa?"

Petyr's face turned to stone. The perfect moment we shared together suddenly shattered to pieces at the mention of her name. It was the ghost of Lysa Arryn that stood before us now: sickly and etiolated, intent on destroying us both. Her wraith-like hands must have succeeded, for Petyr loosened his grip and let my hand drop back to my side.

"Of course, I must marry her," he said woodenly.

"Petyr, please," I pleaded, my fingers reached out to brush the tips of his fingers ever so slightly. "There must be another way."

"There is no other way," he said bitterly. He snatched back his hand and interlaced his fingers together, it reminded me of the small man I used to see at court.  _He's turning into Littlefinger,_  I thought, as he buttoned up the rest of his doublet and smoothed down the last of the wrinkles. He continued, "I will marry your Aunt Lysa, and in time, when I have enough influence over the Vale we shall take back Winterfell, and it will be yours."

"But, I don't want Winterfell!" i said with annoyance. "I want you."

"Sansa, I…" he halted, an inward struggle seemed to cleave to him. He stamped down his foot, as if he wished to crush a memento, an inward thought that seemed to plague him.

"Petyr, please!" I exclaimed. "If you love me… if you truly care for me then don't go."

Petyr abruptly took hold of my face and kissed me passionately, it was as if a madness had seized him. He flung off my cloak, and let his hand travel every inch of my skin. I pressed myself against his frame, telling him that I wanted more- all of him. Petyr suddenly broke his lips from mine and said in a said in a strained voice: "Sansa, I love you, more than you could ever know. But you must trust me."

"Petyr, I do…"

"… then allow me to marry your Aunt."

"I can't…"

"… you must!"

"No!"

"Sansa," he groaned. He kissed my lips again, pressing his face against mine, forcing me to open my mouth to let his tongue slide in. He was tormenting me with his kisses, and dominating me with his tongue. Already I was giving in, allowing his tongue to explore my darkest sphere, but something quivered within me like a restless spirit.

"Petyr, I can't!" I said bitterly. I broke free from him and took a few steps away. His hands were still in the air, a great flush was still on his cheeks, and his eyes were elated with fire. He took a step forward, but I held him back. "No! Don't touch me- ever again. Your as good as married now, you said so yourself!"

"Sansa, please try to understand," he said worriedly. "You must see that this is the  _only_  way. I cannot give you what you ask for but…"

"… than neither can I," I interrupted. "Don't expect me to bed you anymore, Petyr!"

To prove my resolve, I snatched his coat off the floor and draped it over me.  _His eyes shall see my nakedness no more_ , I thought, as I wrapped his heavy coat around my slender frame furiously. Petyr was at once impassioned, a vehement outburst succeeded, in which he called out my name in so deadly a tone that it made my blood run cold. He took a step forward, insistent on breaking the boundary between us, but it was in vain, for an ominous strumming of strings above our heads struck us like an omen; the strings of a lyre rang throughout my room like a toilsome bell signaling the end- the end of everything.

Petyr opened his mouth to speak, but the words he would have said was drowned out by the Bard's ill-fated words, which sealed our fates inevitably. A handsome voice coming from one of the sailor's quarters sang out:

_Under the sailor's deck, hidden from the sky,_

_Is a beautiful lass with pale blue eyes,_

_But she's locked away both night and day,_

_Till I start to wonder if she'll show ever her face._

_Oh, what I'd do to see the lassie,_

_Oh, what I'd do to see her pale blue eyes,_

_This drink don't do any good, any good at all,_

_When there's a beau'ful lass on board._

_And so, me and the lads come stumbling down,_

_And knock upon her door,_

_But the guards came to push us away,_

_Till we crashed upon the floor._

_Oh, what I'd do to see the lassie,_

_Oh, what I'd do to see her pale blue eyes,_

_This drink don't do any good, any good at all,_

_When there's a beau'ful lass on board!_

_They say her hair is like fire,_

_They say her eyes are sapphire blue,_

_And so, night and day we linger long_

_To see if men's words ring true._

_Then one evening we saw our Lord,_

_Step into the beauties room,_

_And he don't come out till the night is gone,_

_So, tell me lads, what should we assume?_

_Oh, we ask him to see the lovely lady,_

_We ask him if we could be introduced,_

_But Lord Baelish shuns us, and goes about his way,_

_Aye, he is a wicked man! Let the girl be his doom._

_Oh, what I'd do to see the lassie,_

_Oh, what I'd do to see her blue, blue eyes_

_This drink don't do any good, any good at all,_

_If I can't see the beautiful lass on board!_

The song abruptly ended, allowing a tense silence to fall between the pair of us. I turned away, hoping to avoid Petyr's searching eyes and to mull over the words that were just said.  _Do the sailors know what we had did last night_ , I wondered,  _and if they do, how will this affect Petyr and I?_

I wrapped the coat around me tighter, wishing I could find some comfort in this awkward predicament.  _If Lysa finds out she will want my head on a stake,_  I mused. I knew very little about my Aunt, but her fanciful whims and eccentric behaviour was gossiped about in King's Landing. Many of them took pity on Petyr, but who better to marry such a mad woman than the King's money lender and master of coins. I let out a long sigh wishing all of this could be over, if only we didn't have to go to the Vale. I rubbed my hands together feverishly to calm my nerves, in a high-pitched voice I asked, "Do they know?"

"I don't know," he bellowed. "But I intend to find out."

* * *

 "Oh, look who decides to show up," I said sassedly to Petyr, as he locked my bedroom door behind him. "Four days! Four bloody days since I've seen you last Petyr."

"Sansa, please let me explain."

"Please, do! I would love to know why you can just bed me and then not speak to me for days, as if I was one of your whores."

"Sansa," he groaned. "We've been through this already."

"Have we?"

"I know your clever enough to recall our conversation," he said. He puckered his lips at me, and let his eyes fall over my figure lustfully. "I believe it was the night I made love to you."

"Your unbelievable, Petyr!" I said, before I tossed my pillow lightly at his head.

He picked up the pillow and placed it under his shoulder as he strode towards me. He placed it in my hand as he teased, "I believe you said it that night as well."

I could feel my cheeks burning under his lecherous stare. I placed the pillow flatly on his chest like a boundary between us, before I said warningly: "I'm not in the mood, Petyr."

"I hardly know what you mean," he said. He tilted his head slightly and raised his eyebrows in approval. I wondered when did we learn to speak with just our eyes, as I narrowed mine at him with relish.

"I meant what I said," I scowled, and hit him in the chest lightly with the pillow. "Your as good as married now. We can't do this again."

"This?" He echoed. He let his hands glide across the pillow until it reached my own, and then he rubbed the back of my fingers deftly.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" He said cunningly, before he tilted his head to the side. "You'll be happy to know that I don't plan on touching you for some time. We've reached The Fingers."

"I know I heard the sailors cheering this morning. Have we docked yet?"

"Within the hour," he replied. He moved the pillow off his chest and tossed it to the corner. Petyr closed the gap between us, before he mused, "You must become my daughter, Alayne Stone, the moment we leave this room. Can you do that for me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No," he breathed. The corner of his lips threatened to tug into a smile, but Petyr suppressed it. "Not if you want to keep that pretty little head of yours."

"Well then, there is your answer."

He nodded his head in approval, before he made his way to my water basin. He plucked out a small cylinder tube from his sleeve and poured the black content into the water. The clear water instantly turned coal-black; Petyr pulled off his golden rings one by one while looking at me, and then he turned away to dip his hand into the murky water. He made dark ripples in the water with his finger, swirling the contents around until it looked the right consistency. He pulled out his hand and let the water droplets fall into the ebon-like water, before he picked up my grey towel and wiped his hand clean. "They call it Night Shade," he said cooly. "I use it on some of my whores to get the desired look."

"And that is?"

"Raven black hair," he replied non-chantly. "Similar to mine."

"Oh," I said uneasily, realizing exactly what he was implying.

"Let's get this over quickly for both our sakes," he said through gritted teeth. "You have no idea how fond I am of that shade."

"Oh, I do," I said teasingly, while I walked towards the basin. Petyr helped me stoop down to its level. I gasped the moment the top of my head hit the ice cold water, and shivered as Petyr splashed it all over my head. He dug his fingers into my scalp, forcing the Night Shade to blot out the last of the colour of my fine auburn locks.

He pulled my head out of the water after a few minutes and patted it dry with his deft hands, working the towel through my hair meticulously. He sighed, "You look like a new woman."

"Better?" I asked worriedly.

"Darker," he simply replied. He rung the wet towel into the basin and hung it up to dry next to me. He looked at his stained hands with annoyance, noticing how the Night Shade covered his hands past his wrists. "Always keep your hands clean," he mused, before he snatched a bar of soap to clean off his fingers.

"Your corrupting me, you know," I said, as I twirled my fingers round my jetty locks.

"Your a bastard now. You were born that way," he pointed out. He continued to scrub at his fingers as he said, "Put on your traveling clothes, and make sure you wear the thick boots that I got you. We have a long journey still, until we reach  _my_  home."

I unbuttoned my night dress in front of him while observing, "You don't seem pleased."

"How can I?" He sighed. "It's just one step closer to the Vale."

 


	6. Voices in the Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

All at once I was pushed against the door, and Petyr's lips swooped in to devour me. His hands lifted up my long dress, bunching it together, and hot hands glided up my smooth leg. He was hitting the right spots, letting his hands feverishly stroke my inner thigh. I moaned into his mouth, unable to contain myself further. I could feel him smiling on my lips, it lasted for a moment before he broke away. "Fuck! I'm going to miss this."

"Then stay," I shot back. "Don't go to the Vale."

"Hmm," Petyr replied, while he pulled his hands out of my dress. He stretched out his long arms and leaned them against the door, enclosing the space around us. I leaned my back against the door, arching it slightly, letting him know I was ready for more. Petyr tilted his head slightly to the side, barely containing the smug that threatened to come across his lips. "You forget I just dyed your hair, Sansa," he said slyly. "There's no turning back now."

"Is that what you think?"

"it's what I know," he said dryly. Petyr leaned away from me, and made his way to my wooden desk where both of our coats were cast aside. Petyr picked them up and then returned to my side once more. "We have a long journey. We should go now, while the sun is still up. I know you don't like the idea of going to the Vale, but think of it as a necessary evil to get our way."

"Is Lysa the necessary evil?"

"She's the greatest one of all," he droned. I noticed the darkness in his eyes as he said, "But that won't last for long."

* * *

 Petyr offered me his hand as we climbed up the craggy seaside cliff. The incline was incredibly steep, so much so that I could not see the top it where Petyr's manor apparently resided. With each step I took the rocks beneath my feet wobbled, threatening to come undone and cascade down the perilous cliff.  _No wonder_   _they call it The Devil's Cliff,_  I pondered, as I watched another rock roll of the side and plummet into the sea. The morning fog continued to blind our vision, making our journey next to impossible, but somehow Petyr knew exactly where we were going; his steps were slow and steady as we winded up the narrow cliff.

_Where is he taking me,_  I wondered, as Petyr instructed me to push myself flat on the rocky wall and shuffle my feet side to side in a careful manner. Beneath me I could hear the raging sea crashing against the rocks and the squeals of birds rushing towards the western wind. I could have sworn I heard a voice in the fog, a woman calling out my name, for a sudden moment before it died down with the wind.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, tilting my head slightly to the side to see Petyr's stern profile.

"Hear what?"

"That voice," I whispered, fearful of further discovery from that haunting voice.

"Oh!" He piped up. He paused for a moment, and leaned towards me while he hushed, "They say this place is haunted. Long ago a woman threw herself over the cliffs after she discovered her husband was cheating on her. There are other wild stories, but that's the one I like to believe."

"Is that why they call it Devil's Cliff?"

"Oh, no," Petyr said, before he continued on his perilous trek. "It's because this is the most dangerous place in all of The Fingers. To take this route means you are risking your life."

"And you took me here because?"

"Because we will be at my house in little over an hour. If we went with everyone else it would take us more than a day's journey," he said matter of factly. "And I don't want you near the sailors, anymore than necessary."

"You don't trust them?" I asked, as I pushed myself off the wall and stretched my long legs over a narrow gap of rocks. I stopped behind Petyr, who was now looking above him for some strange reason. He lifted his hand and glided it across the ashen rocks until he found what he was looking for, a small nook in between the rocks marked with saffron circle drawn underneath.

"I don't like the way they look at you," he blurted out over his shoulder "I've found what I was looking for, Sansa, do you trust me?"

"Of course!"

"Good, because you're going to need it," he exclaimed, before his hands nuzzled itself around my waist and lifted me into the air. "Now, place your feet on top of the boulder- that one over there. Yes! Now climb atop of it until you feel grass beneath your feet, or in this case mud. Go ahead! I'm right behind you."

I did as I was instructed, scuffing my feet across the loose gravel until I felt the soft grassy turf, it stayed this way for quite sometime until I stumbled into a pit of mud. "Petyr?"

"It's alright, sweetling, the worst is over," he said soothingly. I felt his large hand enrapture mine, it was warm to the touch, something I was thankful for as he led the way.

We wandered for some time across the plashy fields, our boots splashing in deep pools of mud and occasionally slipping across the wet grass. The fog began to lift, much to my relief, but a light shower of rain soon came down from the sky. The rain made my long black tresses glimmer in the faint morning light. More than once Petyr looked back at me with wonder, hardly recognizing me at all. And how could he when I was draped in all black from head to toe with a crown of water droplets adorning my wild raven tresses. Petyr paused only once during our journey to push my hair behind my ear, and endow me with a kiss on my bright rosy cheek. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, before he intertwined our fingers together and led me across the mossy fields.

Our path was windy, almost non-nonsensical in a way, as we jumped over narrow crystal streams and walked through tall stalks of grass. Petyr stopped at a large boulder to brush the mud off his boots and then instructed me to do the same. "It get's easier from here," he noted. Petyr pointed up a long country hill to prove his point; an ancient stone gate, sable and glossed over with moss could be seen in the distance. The high-pitched cries of birds suddenly broke our silence, as they fluttered over our head towards Petyr's manor; they almost sounded in unison with the faint roaring of the sea, which thundered endlessly upon the rocky shoreline of The Fingers- this lonely, desolate place that belonged to Petyr.

I noticed Petyr almost looked lugubrious as he swung open the iron gate, which led to his mighty threshold. He seemed to be dreading the sight of his long-forgotten home: the dark grey tower stood ominously before us. Outside his house was unusually silent, only the low moans of wandering sheep could be heard in the far distance. Looking around the stables at the back of the house I asked, "Where is everyone?"

"Probably dead," Petyr said in jest. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer to his figure. "You don't like the silence?"

"It's so different from Winterfell."

"It is," he said honestly. "I belong to a small house, remember? What you see before me is my humble beginnings. A boy with nothing to his name, no titles, no lands- and look at him now! I am the Lord of Harrenhall, The Fingers and soon the Vale. I am the richest man in Westeros, aside from Lord Tywin, of course. And now I have your love, your mind, your body-" Petyr paused to kiss the back of my hand affectionately. "What more can a man ask for?”

"Well, aren't you a lucky man," I teased.

"I don't believe in luck," he said soberly. "I believe everyone of us must make our way in the world. For some the journey is harder than others, as you will soon find out."

"What do you mean?"

"All of your life you've been treated a certain way because you are Ned and Catelyn's daughter. You were blessed with a great name and powerful house, but now you must learn what it means to be a  _bastard_. I am sorry for the pain I must be you through."

"What do you mean?" I asked in a shaky voice.

"You will soon find out," he muttered. Petyr ascended the stony steps with long strides and stopped at the front door with a silver key in hand. The rusted edges could be seen before he penetrated the lock and turned it with enough force to break the damn thing.

"Come see my home, Alayne," was the last thing he said to me, before he slipped into darkness.

* * *

 "Ah! There he is!" a voice cried out in the darkness. It was thickly laced with an unfamiliar accent and rough in manner, although I could have sworn I've heard that same accent before-  _Petyr_. "You've come back at last, eh? Well, that's just grand! Just in time for luncheon too."

"Nice to see you too, Freyes." Petyr answered back, his sonorous voice echoing down the hall like thunder.

"Well, why don't you look dapper? The ladies must be clawing all over you."

"No, my bachelor days are over."

"Now you can tell this old man the truth. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

As I crept further into the room my eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting, a dusty lamp upon the wall guided my way down the narrow hallway. I turned the corner to see the back of Petyr's handsome head and a shadowy figure in the far-right corner.

"Aye, you crafty old devil!" said the blackened figure. "Bringing a pretty thing like that home."

I stood next to Petyr and slipped my arm inside of his, a subtle act to express my discomfort, as this strange looking man hobbled over to me with a terrifying look in his eyes. He stood before me now, burrowing his large black eyes at me in silence. A few heartbeats passed before a great smile spread across his wrinkled face. "She's a bit young for you, isn't she?" he rapped out unexpectedly.

"She's my daughter, Freyes," Petyr said coolly.

"Aye, your daughter? Lucky bastard!"

"Freyes, please, language," Petyr said protectively.  _He is playing his role well._

"She's old enough to hear that word! Look at her, Petyr, she's a grown woman. And your telling an old man to quiet up," Freyes grumbled. He hobbled over to me with a merry gait, hardly taking in Petyr's disgruntled look. "Freyes, the name! It's mighty nice to meet ya. I have you know that I knew your father since he was a wee lad. Always getting into trouble he was, a miracle he is standing here in one piece. You're not like that, I hope."

"Ah, no," I said hesitantly.

"Your much to pretty to be getting in all kinds of trouble. Look like an angel, I tell ya."

"Freyes," Petyr droned in boredom. "My daughter and I have had a very long journey. Could we at least take off these wet coats before you bombard us with…"

"I'm not bombarding anyone!" Freyes shot his cane into the air, pointing it at Petyr threateningly. "Now, your letter said nothing about bringing ya daughter home! Don't even have the decency to tell this old man that you went out and got yourself a family."

"Really, Freyes?" Petyr said in disbelief.  _They must know each other well,_  I thought,  _Petyr would never allow anyone to speak to him that way._

Freyes continued, "You know, Marg and I have been worried sick about you! Thinking the day you die this home will fall apart cause you failed to produce an heir. Well, dang it, there she is!"

"There she is," Petyr drawled. "Are you quite finished?"

"Ten years you've been gone! Haven't seen you since ya father's funeral. God bless his soul! Well, its been a might long time since I've seen ya, Petyr, so I'm gonna keep talking to ya and your pretty little daughter for as long as I can stand."

"Aye, but not until Alayne and I get out of these wet clothes," Petyr said in a mocking tone, mimicking Freyes' accent and manner of speaking word for word.  _He_   _really is a mockingbird,_  I thought, as I looked up at Petyr with admiration.

"Ah, bless me! Good to hear your voice again, instead of that god-awful southern accent of yours. Alright, give me ya coats. Don't worry I'll take good care of them," Freyes exclaimed. As I handed him my coat to him, Freyes winked at me in a playful manner. "Alayne, eh? That was Petyr's mother's name. I suppose he told you that."

"He did," I said softly, knowing it was a touchy subject for Petyr.

"Never the same after his mother died," Freyes whispered. "Poor lad… they were so close you know. Always clinging to his mother's knees. It was the cold that took her, and these drafty rooms in the winter. Best be dressing warm or you'll have the same fate."

The old man patted me on the arm affectionately, and then hobbled off with his booty. Instinctively I took Petyr's hand and looked up at him worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Petyr said in a strained voice. He purposely avoided my gaze, intent on staring at the soiled rug instead.  _Let him be. He doesn't want to talk about._

"Come, Alayne," Petyr murmured. He lightly tugged at my head and lead me up the creaky wooden stairs towards the bedrooms. He stopped in front of a door that was closest to the staircase and took out another set of keys. "You'll have to use my room for now. Yours isn't ready yet. Take off your wet clothing and I'll be back in a moment. You need something warm and dry to put on."

He left without another word. I creaked open the door and stepped into Petyr's room, hardly expecting to see it furnished so modestly, it was a pale contrast to Petyr's elaborate cabin room back on the ship. The colours were dull: tan coloured wallpaper, musty grey drapes and bed sheets. It was hardly a room befitting for Petyr, he needed something with more splendor and grace. I walked into the center of the room and began undressing, feeling my goosebumps tingle off my skin with each layer. The howling wind outside pressed against the window, shaking the rugged windowpane outside. Fortunately, a knock on the door disrupted my gloomy thoughts. Petyr sauntered into the bedroom cheerily, all of his attention focused solely on my half naked body. I blushed under his lustful gaze, noting the darkness of his eyes as he looked over my pale figure, still glistening from the morning dew.

"This is all I could find, I'm afraid," he said, while holding up a dark plum coloured dress with a plunging neck line. "Marg isn't exactly your size and our luggage won't arrive until tomorrow morning."

Petyr's hands accidentally brushed against my icy knuckles as he handed me the dress. "Your cold," he observed. He rubbed the back of my hands slowly, letting his warmth travel up my arm.  _I miss this,_  I thought, as I looked up into his soft grey-green eyes.

"Wait," I hushed. I released my hand from his and let it trail along his sharp jaw-line, and then around the curve of his ear before I finally settled for his damp curly locks. Weaving my way into his tighten curls, I drew his head forward until it was but a breath away. Petyr stared at me, waiting for the inevitable, for his lips to connect with mine. His moist lips was inches away now, any second they were about to connect- a heavy knock on the door suddenly startled us. _Did he lock the door,_  I wondered, as Petyr's face grew pale. The creaking of the door knob told me he didn't lock the door behind him.  _Seven Hells,_  I thought, as the door began to open.

 


	7. The Buzzing of a Bee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

“Stop right there!" Petyr thundered, his voice was terrifying enough for me to slip out of his arms and back away. Petyr's steps resounded off the hardwood floor as he made his way to the half-opened door. He flung it open with such terrible force that it made the old woman nearly fall back in terror. In a low, deadly voice, Petyr drawled out, "What- do- you- want?"

"I only-" stammered the old woman.

"You only?" he said in a mocking voice. "If it is an excuse, Marg, I don't want to hear it."

Petyr was not a tall man, nor was he intimidating in appearance, but his anger was a terrible thing to behold. The old woman continued to tremble before him, shaking in her boots like a child. A part of me empathized with the poor woman, it was a simple mistake, but it would have cost us dearly.  _We could have been ruined,_ I reminded myself,  _it would have cost us everything._

Petyr stooped himself low, forcing his steely eyes to be leveled with hers. "From now on you will knock on the door before you enter a room. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Lord Baelish" she murmured.

"Good," he shot back. He returned to his own level, sensing the old woman had learnt her lesson. In a much kinder tone he asked, "What is it that you want, Marg?"

"I wanted to see if your daughter needed help getting changed. And if she wants a hot bath I can do that as well."

"Alayne?" he asked. His eyebrows raised in the air with faint amusement at our little game. "Do you require Marg's services?"

"I do. Thank you, father," I said in my sweetest tones. _I must remember to stay in my role as well,_ I thought, as the old woman began to notice my half-naked appearance with suspicion.  _She knows there is something not right, but she can't put her finger on it- yet._

"Very well," Petyr purred in the softest of tones. "Come down once your done. I have something to tell you."

* * *

 I let out a long exhale, letting the last of the air escape my lungs before I took a step down the long, windy staircase.  _I don't know how much longer I can do this,_  I thought, as I stroked my fingers across the smooth curves of the wooden handrail.  _How can I pretend that I am his daughter if I have feelings for him? How can I keep all my emotions bottled up when all I want is for them to explode?_

_In less than a month he'll be a married man,_  my conscious reminded me. I shut my eyes at the remembrance of it, wishing these hateful thoughts would go away. I let out another exhale, smaller this time before I took a solitary step on the wooden stairs; it creaked and then groaned loudly beneath my feet. The stairs and my conscious were one of the same, protesting loudly as I made my way down the stairs. If I had any second thoughts of turning back, it would have been in vain, for a stranger suddenly appeared from an open doorway. He was a great burly looking man, with long tousled hair and a thick bristly beard. He wore a full suit of armour and heavy chain mail, and on the front of his breast plate was a mockingbird sigil. This man was clearly one of Petyr's men, although, he looked far more imposing than the rest of his guardsmen. Light brown eyes stared back at me inquisitively, before he took a step forward and bowed to me in a chivalrous manner. In a deep, booming voice he exclaimed, "Lady Baelish! It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

"You know me?" I asked, slightly rattled that he recognized me. A small part of me was thankful he did not call me by my bastard name, Alayne Stone, as many others had done since I stepped off Petyr's ship.

"Oh, everybody does!" He assured me. "They even made a tale about you, maybe even a  _song_  by now."

He lifted his large, calloused hands into the air for added emphasis, as he said, "'The Drowning of Sirens' that's what they call it. The poor bastard that made a song about you and your father was thrown straight into the sea with his nothing but a broken lyre to buoy him up. They say he sang the sweetest of songs before he sank into the water for good."

_So that is what Petyr had in mind when he stormed out of my room that morning,_ I contemplated.  _It also explains why he avoided me like the plague. The sailors must have been gossiping about us beforehand, and the bard's song only made matters worse. But how was I suppose to know that? Petyr never told me what went on in the outside world- he kept me in the dark. Why did he always keep me in the dark?_

"Where you there?" I asked him, after I broke out of my meditative-like trance. "Did you see what happened to the sailor?"

"No, I was below deck. I had to deal with some rowdy sailors that were still jabbering on about the bloody song. Seven Hells! It's like they had nothing else better to do."

I covered my mouth, trying to suppress the laughter that was quickly escaping me.  _This stranger is most certainly amusing,_  I thought,  _and handsome as well._  His light brown eyes were warm and friendly as he looked at me, it reminded me of my father's; it was so different from Petyr's, which could look so cold and calculating when he was ready.

"My name is Ser Dale Braes by the way," he offered. He reached for my hand and gently lifted it towards his face; the back of my hand tickled lightly as his prickly beard rubbed against my sensitive skin. His lips were surprisingly soft as he kissed the back of my hand.

"Alayne?" said a low voice in the darkness.  _Damn._ I turned my head to see that Petyr had just walked out of his solar room with scrolls still in hand; he had a death grip on them, making them crumple loudly as he bent them in two. Petyr was clever enough to wear a dead-pan expression, but his eyes could not hold back the truth: they were steely, almost leaden-like, as he took in the scene of Ser Dale's lips still hovering over my hand.

"Father?" I squealed, before I snatched my hand out of the knight's firm grip. "I was just becoming acquainted with Ser Dale."

"Yes, I can see that!" he said sharply. His voice was full of strange energy as he muttered, "Come into my office, Alayne. I need a word with you."

I descended the last of the stairs, careful to avoid Ser Dale's insistent gaze.  _If he keeps this up he'll end up like that poor sailor,_  I thought, as I made my way around his large figure.  _Hopefully he has more wits about him than that unfortunate bard._

I avoided Petyr's rather unsettling gaze as well, as I walked past him and went into his brightly lit solar. The door slammed behind me, a low chink of the lock assured me that we were alone and were meant to be undisturbed.

"Really, Petyr?" I said with slight annoyance, as I turned around to face him. "There is nothing to worry about. I was just-"

Petyr lips swooped in, cutting out the last of my words with his fiercely passionate kisses. He opened his mouth wide to swallow me whole, forcing his lips onto mine with an unyielding force. His hands squeezed down hard on my waist, before he lifted me atop of his desk and tossed his papers to the side. He clapped the back of my head and pulled my face in, kissing me zealously: biting down on my lower lip and stretching it out before he let it smack back in place. Hot hands slowly climbed its way up my leg, swirling it way around my outer thigh in a teasing manner. Petyr pressed his face against mine, forcing me backward till I arched over his desk in an immodest position. Fearful of losing my balance, I slid my arms around the back of his neck and dug my nails down the length of his back without admonition. Petyr groaned into my mouth, while he pressed his member harder against me. Suddenly, his hands pushed my legs apart and he forced his way into my middle. Pleased by the expediency of his nimble hands as they worked their way down my inner thigh, I thrust my tongue into his mouth with new-found pleasure, feeling the last of my innocence lost when the tip of my tongue connected with his. Petyr let me feel it, encouraging me to explore this unknown territory. I could feel him nod his head in approval as I licked the inside of his cheek. His hands began to wander up my lower back, tearing the seams of the dress as he forced his way up the middle. Hot fingers worked its way up my spine, as I continued to prod his mouth with my tongue. He grew restless, however, for he began to fence with my tongue and then defeated it soundly; in less than a heartbeat he dominated me completely. I groaned in frustration, as Petyr forced his tongue down upon mine and beat it to submission. I pulled myself away from him and blurted out, "That's not fair! Your just jealous!"

"Hmmm," he moaned, as he drew himself closer to my face again.

"Just admit it, Petyr" I shot back. "I've never seen you this way."

"Yes, well let's not make it a habit," he quipped. His grey- green eyes started to darken again as he looked at my rose-coloured lips attentively.

"Petyr," I moaned. He simply ignored me and opened his mouth wide to nip at my sensitive skin along my neck. Nibbling it light, ensuring he wouldn't leave a mark on my pale ivory skin.  _We can't have people asking questions,_ I thought, as Petyr continued on his journey. Feeling satisfied, he licked the length of my neck in a soothing manner, lathering the small bit marks he had just made.

He lifted his head upwards until he faced me and whispered, "Don't ever do that again."

"Or what? You'll have me on the table," I teased.

Petyr puckered his lips at me unconsciously, as the thought quickly sifted in his mind. "Oh, Sansa," he groaned in annoyance, before he turned away to retrieve his goblet of wine that was left at the edge of the table. He gulped it down nervously trying to distract his thoughts of the image of me sprawled out upon his desk begging for more. He drained it down completely, ensuring his thirst was quenched before he looked down at the bottom of the cup sullenly. "Oh, Sansa," he uttered agai, but this time he said it in the gravest of tones.

"He's too old for me anyways," I said off handily, noticing Petyr's sudden change of mood.

"Braes is a few years younger than myself," Petyr grunted.

"Exactly."

"If you are trying to get me angry-"

"I think it's a little too late for that, love. We are way past that stage now, don't you think?"

"Sansa," Petyr growled, like a wild animal in a cage. His face was darkening by the second.  _Maybe he really will have me on the table,_  I thought. I bit my lip down hard with anticipation.

"It's Alayne remember?" I said wickedly, knowing the angrier he became the more likely he would ravish me on the table. "Or have you forgotten that as well. Jealousy really does wonders-"

Petyr prevented me from going any further, for he pulled me into a tight embrace and smothered the last of my words with kisses. I gasped for air for half a second, before Petyr pulled me down further, until I laid flat on the desk. He crawled on top of it and punished my insolent behaviour with monstrous kisses till my lips were swollen and felt raw to the touch. The desk shook violently beneath us, as Petyr situated himself on top of me, spreading his legs out to the farthermost corners of his desk while he pressed his hardened cock to my center. "Fuck me," Petyr growled, the moment my hands trailed down his mid-section to grab a hold of his crotch.

"Yes?" I teased, knowing full well the manner of which Petyr said it. My restless hands suddenly swooped upwards and found its way to the minuscule buttons of Petyr's doublet. One by one I unbuttoned it, enjoying the precious sight of Petyr's scar against his snowy white skin.

"I specifically remember you said you wouldn't sleep with me anymore," he said slyly, while he watched me undress him.

"I did say that, didn't I?" I mused, while looking up at him. Raising an eyebrow at him, I shifted my fingers away from his infuriating buttons and lightly pushed the center of Petyr's chest away from me.

"Sansa?" he asked in confusement.

"The trouble is once you've done it before, it's harder not to do it again."

Petyr blinked at me in bewilderment. He did not like the increasing pressure on his chest, as I pushed him further away. Looking at me with saddened eyes he asked, "And what exactly do you mean by that, Sansa?"

"You're a clever boy. I'm sure you will figure it out soon enough."

"No," he stammered out. "I won't!"

"Oh, I don't know," I said airily, feigning the voice of the sweet, innocent girl I once was. "It would be so much easier to fuck you, if I knew you  _weren't_  going to marry my Aunt Lysa."

"Sansa, please-"

I put my finger to his lip and murmured, "It's Alayne, remember?"

"Alayne," Petyr wailed. "We've been through this before-"

"Yes, we have," I interjected. "Which is why I have nothing more to say."

"Wait! Where are you going?" he cried out, once I slid out of his arms and hopped off the desk.

"To see what exactly Ser Dale's job description entails."

"Your enjoying this," he said in a raspy voice, his brogue thicker than ever before.

"Oh, more than you will ever know," I teased, before I winked at him and closed the door behind me.

* * *

 I wandered down the lonely halls in search of Ser Braes, hoping his soft brown eyes and long chestnut locks would be a helpful distraction from Petyr.  _He's a knight_ , I reminded myself, as I rounded another corner that lead to the kitchen. I knocked on the door before entering, and spotted Marg working her fingers through a ball of dough. "Have you seen Ser Dale?" I asked, careful not to look the old woman in the eye.

"He's already outside waiting for your father. They should both be gone soon enough."

"Where are they going?" I inquired, hoping she wouldn't notice the crack in my voice.  _Petyr didn't tell me he was leaving,_  I panicked.  _Since when did he keep secrets from me?_

_Since you left him in his solar with a uncomfortably harden cock,_ a small voice said at the back of my mind. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of it.

"I'm not sure. You'll have to ask him when he comes back. All I know is they had a bit of trouble down by the shore."

"What sort of trouble?"

The old woman dusted off her hand with a towel, carefully removing the last of the sticky dough before she uttered, "The fog- it's the fog that's caused all this trouble. If you've never been to The Fingers, it sure is easy to lose your way. Those sailors have been out there wandering across the fields for quite sometime now, and with all of the luggage and everything else they need to carry they must be close to loosing their minds. Your father and Ser Dale are heading down there to show them the way."

"But it's almost dark," I observed, as I looked towards the open window where the last of the sunset melted against the aegean sky. "Couldn't they go tomorrow morning?"

"Best to go now. Don't worry about your father, child," Marg cooed, as he held my hand in a soothing manner. "Your father knows this land, more than anyone else. He'll be just fine."

High-pitch squeals from horses broke our comforting silence, as the horses mournful cries rang through the open window. "That must be off now," Marg reasoned. I sprinted towards the open window, but I was too late, the sounds of horses galloping past my window could be heard: metal hoofs pounded the muddy earth as they made their way around the back of the house to the front.

A flash of black blazed against the burnt orange sun, as Petyr's horse moved swiftly down the sea green hill till his darkened figure could be seen no more. Ser Dale pale white horse soon followed, the wings of his azure blue cloak flapped mercilessly against the harrowing wind.

"We won't be seeing them anytime soon," Marg mused. She returned to her baking, hardly bothered at all that her master had just left. She was mixing raisins into the batter when she added, "You'd be lucky if your father returns by tomorrow night. He has always been as busy as a bee, that one! Aye, I wouldn't be surprised if we don't see them over the next several days. And the way Petyr's been behaving lately, who knows when he'll be back."

 


	8. Bacchus and his Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

I climbed up the rolling hillside, taking in the never-ending sky that stretched out before me; white clouds dancing across the frosty blue welkin, bright golden streams of light blazing across the eastern sky.

All morning long, I had watched the sun rise. A great golden globe of light rose over the sunlit hills, bringing crimson-like clouds in its wake. For a while, I watched the full moon battle with the sun, each shedding its own light across the hemisphere, but the proudful sun rose higher into the sky, as if it knew the end was near. The wailful moon suddenly dipped behind the clouds, bowing its mighty head in shame. When I finally lost interest in the pursuing battle and looked away to glance at the far distant sea, the moon slipped from the clouds and sunk into the ground until it could be seen no more.

As I stood over the hill-top edge, I could see the green grass glow beyond the never-ending heath, and in the far distance I could see the stony walls of Petyr's home. I thought I saw movement on the other side of a nearby hill, but it was only a black bird; there were so many of them on The Fingers, squalling across the sky since the break of dawn. I wearily sat down at the edge of the hill-top, feet dangling over the edge for what felt like ages till I saw a blackened figure appear from around the bend of a far-off hill.  _Petyr_ , I thought, and without a second thought I got up and ran down the hill to greet him.

Slipping and sliding down the dewy grass I made my way down the bottom of the hill where a flock of birds were warbling to themselves. I happily perturbed their genial-like company by running through the sea of birds, until they flapped their great wings towards the heavens. My sprightly feet ran down the last of the hill and sprinted across the plashy fields until I reached my basket full of food and Marg's tartan blanket propped up atop a boulder. I threw them into my arms and then breathlessly ran around the base of the hill until I could the see the blackened figure fast approaching from the other side. He was not alone, a great multitude of people trailed closely behind him; nipping at his heels was Ser Dale, his distinctive blue cloak flapping in the wind behind him.

I could not wait for them to come to me, however, so I slowly walked and then ran towards the pair. Once Petyr espied me sprinting across the heath, he immediately knocked the sides of his horse with his heels until the horse had no choice but to race towards me. In no time at all, the metal hoofs of his horse scrapped the decrepit earth in front of me, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Petyr jumped into the swirling dust cloud, imperceptible for a moment, until the dust dwindled away, and it was only him that stood before me- tall, proud, and handsome as ever. "Hello, sweetling," he breathed, before he wrapped his arms around me, enrapturing me in a tight embrace.

Reluctant tears began to stream down my face, as he held me close. Petyr had come at last; it sent a shiver down my spine, and a spasm in my innermost heart. He leaned back, so he could cup my cheeks with his hands, and only then did he consider my tearful eyes. "You missed me."

"Yes."

Petyr let out a low chuckle, it clearly amused him to see me this way. "I wasn't gone that long."

"I haven't had a word from you for five days!"

"Were you worried?" he teased. He kissed the top of my forehead affectionately, letting it last a bit longer than it should.

"I thought you were avoiding me," I confessed, while his lips were still pressed firmly on my brow.

"Now, why would I do that," he said slyly.

"It might have something to do with me leaving you with an uncomfortably hardened cock."

"Yes, about that-"

"Lord Baelish!" Ser Dale called out from behind. Luckily, he wasn't close enough to hear the last of our conversation. Ser Dale leaned over his horse to get a good look at us, his eyes lingering on me longer than I would have liked. "The boys are asking where they'll be sleeping tonight. They're afraid they'll be sleeping in the barn."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Petyr replied smoothly. I could not tell whether he was being earnest, or if his sarcastic tone implied something far more sinister gnawing away at his mind.

"My Lord?"

"They'll be sleeping out in the barn. I'm take no chances. The last thing I need is for someone to harm my daughter," he replied. Petyr slipped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to his frame. "Assure them that they will be given every possible comfort: food, shelter, money for their hardships, the whole lot. Tomorrow you will lead them back to the ship."

"Understood," Ser Dale said, before he tugged at his horse's bridle and rode away.

Petyr turned to me with soft grey-green eyes and whispered, "It's your name day."

"You remembered!" I said cheerfully, while tugging at the hem of his sleeve.

"Of course, sweetling, I remember  _everything_."

Something about the way he looked at me made me blush. "Petyr, stop," I hushed.

"Never."

"You truly are a wicked man," I replied, while cutting my eyes at him.

Petyr chose to ignore my insolent words and gave me instructions to gather my stuff so he could take me home. Once I had the straw basket and blanket in hand, Petyr grabbed his horse's bridle and steered it towards me, it gave him enough time to steal a kiss, before the others could see exactly what we were doing.  _Why is he so clever_ , I wondered, noticing the way the horse blocked out our view, so he could kiss me again. "Time to go home," he uttered, once he was satisfied with the taste of my lips.

* * *

 Petyr lead me into a sightless realm where darkness presided, deeper and deeper into the shadowless catacombs where no light could hide. His hands enclasped my waist, fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me in. A waft of mint hit me, invigorating my senses as I breathed him in. Every nerve in my body wanted him: to feel him, to touch him, to savour every inch of his skin.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Petyr asked. The tantalizing scent of mint left me in a haze, my mind was afloat, drifting away with every whimsical thought that came flooding through my mind. He began to caress me, letting his hands wander up my side, feeling the deep ridges of my bones and the soft swell of my breasts. Petyr's lips lightly touched mine, soft as water droplets from the sky, as refreshing as the morning mist on my icy skin. In less than a whisper, Petyr pleaded, "Stay with me."

"You know I can't do that."

"Can't you?" he asked in a low tenor. I could feel him breathing against my skin, a soft breeze blowing past my cheek before he laid a kiss on my swan-like neck.

"You're practically a married man," I reminded him.

"I don't recall taking any vows," he said, and pressed his lips against the smooth ridges of my jawline. "I remember no priests, no ring, no wedding night."

Petyr pulled me in tighter. Firm hands shifted down the bottom of my waist until it nuzzled itself around my hips. He drew me into him, until I could feel his hardness- his need that only I could soothe. In a hoarse voice he said, "Don't make me beg."

I glided my fingers through his hair, smoothing it upwards till his tight curls unfold between my fingers. Just like his hair, I had the power to unravel him. But when did gods beg for mercy? When did they have to beg and plead for the things they wanted most? If Petyr was a god, did that make a goddess?  _A goddess of darkness and despair,_ I thought, as I joined my lips with his; our bodies intertwined together until they were nearly indistinguishable in the darkness.

All at once, everything dovetailed together in my mind, as Petyr hoisted up my floor length satin gown. "Petyr, wait," I pleaded, and brought my hands down to meet his. "I'm so sorry, but I can't do this."

Petyr was silent, his movements were deliberate and stiff as he backed away from me. He must have felt estranged by my sudden coldness, if only he could understand that it was merely my conscious that intervened. I can only assume he was fulminating in the darkness, as the minutes stretched by between us in deadly silence.

"What is it?" I finally asked. "What are you thinking?"

"You want it as much as I do," Petyr mused. "Why do you let  _her_  stand between us?"

"Because you put her there!"

"I did," he said woodenly. "But this wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to-"

"To what?" I asked into the darkness.

"To develop feelings for you."

"There is still time. You don't have to marry her," I said with a sense of urgency. "Come away with me! Or stay here... I don't care, just don't marry that woman."

"I have too."

"No- you- don't!"

"Don't you think I want to marry you? Don't you think I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman I love?" he asked, his voice filled with a strange fever. "But there's no such thing as a happy ending… your time in King's Landing should have taught you that."

"It did, but-"

"Then you understand why I  _must_  marry Lysa," Petyr said in a severe tone, it had an air of finality to it.

"Yes," I concurred. "But only if you understand my reasonings too."

"What do you hope to gain from it?" Petyr asked, his footsteps clamouring against the floor as he made his way towards me. "Condemning me, as well as yourself does not solve the problem- it only exasperates it. I know you want it… I know I want it... I know Lysa doesn't ever have to know. It could be our little secret… you like secrets, don't you Sansa?"

"Petyr," I warned. "I can't go against my conscience."

"Rise above it!" he uttered. "Step outside of the boundary, and you will find there is more to life than you originally perceived."

"And this is coming from the Whoremonger," I quipped.

"I have no morals," Petyr agreed. His hands clamped the sides of my arms in the dark, ever so slowly he moved his hands up and down my arm in a deliberate manner. He whispered, "In time you will be the same."

"You seem so sure of it."

Petyr chuckled low, a sweet melodious sound escaped his lips as he slipped into another one of his pensive moods. His hands slipped upwards, until it spread across my shoulders and only then did he draw me in. "My sweet Sansa, there is so much still to learn… so much still to do."

"Like what?"

"Well," he said slyly, his voice was dripping like honey as he leaned his lips closer to my ear. "I am curious what you taste like."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "You've kissed me more than enough times to know…"

Petyr's hand flew downwards and stopped in the exact area of which he was implying.

"Oh," I noted with slight bewilderment. My cheeks were burning fiercely as I could feel the warmth spreading from his formidable hand.

"Yes, sweetling," he teased, as he edged his face closer to mine.

"You truly are a wicked man!" I stammered, as the most sacred places of my body began to ache.

"So, you've told me before."

"I- I think I should be going now," I blurted out, and then fled down the hall in search of some sort of light to lead me out of the darkened hallway. Petyr's laugh echoed down the hallway, as I found myself at the foot of a staircase.  _He must have taken me to the lower levels_ , I thought, as I ascended the wooden steps.

My mind was still spinning when I bumped into a tall gentleman at the top of the stairs. He turned around, and the familiar face of Ser Dale was there to greet me.

"Alayne!" he cried out. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"I was with my father," I replied honestly, while staring at the bouquet of wild flowers in his hand.

"You noticed them already," he noted. He stretched out his arms and placed it in my hands gingerly. "There for you. Something to bright up your name day. I hope you like it."

"Yes, I do. That was very kind of you, Ser Dale."

"Then you are pleased?" he asked with a boyish grin.

"Yes, I am. Thank you," I replied gently, and then made my way around him to leave.

"Your father told me there shall be a dance tonight. I shall be one of the few honoured guests," he remarked. "Will you give me the honour of the first dance?"

At that moment, Petyr ascended the last of the steps- he looked darker than ever. I burrowed my eyes at him while I answered his rival's question. "Yes, of course, Ser Dale, I  _loved_  too," and without another word I took my leave.

* * *

 I walked into the dining room to see Robert strumming his guitar in the corner of the room. He must have heard me, for he looked up from his silver strings and said, "Ah, there you are! So, you have come at last!"

I laughed at him, truly happy to see Robert Freyes again. He stroked his finger across the strings, while his eyes drank me in. I was hardly surprised by it, after all I was dressed in a flattering crimson red dress with jewels dipping low between my breasts. I let my raven tresses hang low down my back tonight, all wild and untamed.  _Bastard's hair_ , I thought, as I stroked my fingers through the thick curly locks.

"You'll give the men quite a start," he teased, while fingering the strings. "Especially that young knight- what's his name again?"

"Ser Dale."

"What about him?" Petyr interrupted in the severest of tones.

"He'll be real happy to see Alayne in that dress," answered Robert, with a whimsical smile. "Aren't I right, Alayne?" he added, and raised his thick jetty eyebrows at me in a taunting manner.

Petyr's movements were smooth as he walked around me, his eyes trailed down the length of my dress with approval. His tongue jutted out of his mouth and licked the length of his lips as he looked down at my exposed breasts.

"Do you approve?" I asked, the moment his hands grazed my breasts to caress the obsidian stones. It was a gift from Petyr, along with many other garments that found its way into my bedroom this afternoon- this dress was one of them.

"I do," he said coolly.  _Desire, desire, desire,_  shot through me the moment his eyes locked onto mine. Fortunately, anything Petyr would have been done was thwarted by Marg's blusterous voice announcing dinner was ready. She stepped in between us to show the newly imported bottle of Dornish wine and a jug full of ale. Petyr looked at it with vague disinterest, slightly annoyed that he had to remove his hand away from my voluptuous breasts. He nodded his head with approval, until Marg was satisfied enough to make her way to the table.

"Shall we begin?" I said teasingly and took his hand in my own. Petyr's eyes sparkled, a great wave of feeling was seen in his orb before he shut it completely.

"I thought you'd never ask." He led me to my chair near the head of the table, holding it out and pushing it in before he unexpectantedly took a seat next to my own. He had hardly been sitting there for a minute, before his hand crept under the table and found its way on my lap; his hand began to wander across my inner thigh relentlessly much to my displeasure.

"More wine, Lord Baelish?" Marg asked.

"Yes," he said, and used his left hand to move the cup closer to her.  _Smart man_ , I thought, while I continued to feel his fingers torment me with its rhythmic movements. Suddenly his words spoken in the darkened lower levels of house seemed far more appealing than when he first uttered it:  _I know what you want… I know what I want... I know Lysa doesn't ever have to know…_

"Alayne, do you want any?" Marg asked, shattering the last of my sinful thoughts, much to my relief.

"Yes, thank you," I said far too quickly.

"No!" Petyr interjected. "It's much too strong for her. Have Robert's ale instead."

"But its my name day," I wailed.

"I don't care what day it is," Petyr shot back.

"But it's not fair!" I whined, like a child that wasn't getting their way.

"This isn't a discussion." He removed his hand from my thigh and placed it atop of the table next to his newly replenished wine.

"I'm sorry child," Marg whispered into my ear as she poured out the draft of ale.

_I'm not a child_ , I wanted to say, except Petyr was most certainly treating me like one right now.

"How about some music, eh?" Robert piped up. He plucked at his strings joyously, letting a soft melodious melody fill the the entire room. It sounded like folk music, native to the land, instead of the ostentatious noise that was often heard in King's Landing. Robert hummed along to the music; he had a deep baritone voice, strong and forceful, yet, soothing to the ears.

Petyr seemed to relax, he leaned back in his chair and took long sips of the Dornish wine. Occasionally, he would look at me from the corner of his eyes when he thought I was too busy watching Robert Freyes play his guitar. Petyr finished his goblet of wine in no time at all, thus, freed from his present occupation he returned to his former one, and began to stroke my inner thigh aimlessly. The wine was most certainly putting him in a mood, a curious glimmer could be seen in his grey-green eyes, and his purple-stained lips formed into something like a smile.

"More wine?" Marg asked, as she placed our dinner plates down on the table in front of us.

Petyr wordlessly handed his cup to her. A thin, wiry smile played upon his lips as she drained the last of the bottle. Once the last few drops splashed into his cup, Petyr turned his attention to his dinner plate, the succulent lamp chop and piping hot vegetables was enough to wet his appetite. I watched him carve his knife through the leg of lamp, juices swimming round the plate, lapping at the orange carrots and dainty green peas scattered across his plate. The sauce was also dripping down Petyr's lips, but he quickly licked it away with his tongue. I instinctively licked my own at the sight of it. Petyr must have been watching me from the corner of his eye, for he smiled to himself while looking down at his plate.

_Look away_ , yelled my conscience,  _don't let him see!_ It was too late, Petyr looked up from his plate and said, "Marg, give my daughter some wine, will you? I've changed my mind."

"Are you sure?" I asked, as Marg uncorked another bottle.

"Very," he said smoothly, while he watched Marg poured the sweet summer wine into each of our goblets. "Drink as much as you like."

"Hey, Petyr!" Robert called out. "How about I play you a made-up songs, just like old times?"

"The floor's yours," Petyr assured him, from over the rim of his cup.

"Well, that's just grand!" Robert stood up from his chair and began to strum his guitar. He swayed to and fro to the rhythmic beat, dancing along to his own cheerful melody, until a sudden inspiration hit him, and he sang:

_Welcome to the land of rocks and crags,_

_With grey old men, and ugly hags,_

_With ale so heavy, it makes you sleep,_

_And wine so bitter, it makes me weep..._

"Hey! Who are you calling an old hag?" Marg spat out, as she reached for a bottle of Arbour Gold from the wine rack.

"It's just a song, love," Robert teased. He strummed the silver strings again, and continued:

_Welcome to the land of fog and mist,_

_Where the sun never shines,_

_Unless you've had a drink…_

Petyr' slurred speech took me by surprise, as he yelled out, "Come on, Robert, sing something better."

"I liked it," I quickly defended.

"Oh, of course  _you_  liked it." Petyr head bobbed slightly over as he uttered, "Trust me, he could do better."

_He's drunk,_  I realized, once Petyr's head bobbed slightly forwards. He hardly seemed aware of his drunken state. He shot me a lazy smile, it was accompanied by dull, leaden eyes that continually opened and closed as he looked at me.

"Petyr are you all right?" I asked.

"Hmmmm," he muttered under his breath. He stretched out his arm around the back of my chair and leaned towards me. "Come closer, Sa- Alayne."

I did as he bidded, scaping the chair closer to his own until he nodded his head with approval. I leaned into his chest, feeling the warmth seeping through his thin silken doublet. He smelled of wine and mint.  _I bet he would taste even better,_  a dangerous voice said at the back of my mind.  _It must be the wine,_  I thought worriedly, and pushed my goblet away.

"Drink, drink," Petyr mumbled. He pushed his brow into my raven locks, breathing in the perfumed smell. I could hear him take sharp intakes, reminiscing over the exotic scent of lemon and lime.

"Sing that song Petyr used to love as a child," Robert's wife advised. "He used to sing it all the time, remember?"

"Is it this one?" he asked, while strumming the strings. The tune picked up quickly, a fast-paced beat rang throughout the room before Robert sang:

_The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,_

_and her kisses were warmer than spring._

_But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,_

_and its kiss was a terrible thing._

_The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,_

_in a voice that was sweet as a peach,_

_But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,_

_and a bite sharp and cold as a leech._

_As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,_

_and the taste of his blood on his tongue,_

_His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,_

_and he smiled and he laughed and he sung…_

Petyr's suddenly joined the reprise and sang along with Robert Freyes. Their deep baritone voices mingled together as they sang:

_Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,_

_the Dornishman's taken my life,_

_But what does it matter, for all men must die,_

_and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!_

"Bless me!" Robert cried out. He slammed a flat hand against the strings, as he uttered, "The very devil came at last."

Petyr and I turned away from the speaker and looked at the intended audience, Ser Dale, stood in front of the open doorway looking directly at me.

"Have a drink, lad! Imagine you've had quite a long day. You don't drink that daft Dornish wine, do you?"

"I don't," he replied quietly. Ser Dale's hair was tied up, and he was dressed in a sturdy brown leather doublet; it was a stark contrast for Petyr's smooth golden speckled doublet. "Lord Baelish. Alayne," he said respectfully, as he took a seat opposite me.

"Have some of me homemade ale," Robert sang. "Made it me self."

"I shall," answered the knight.  _He's a man of few words,_  I thought,  _he's so different from the silver-tongued gentleman beside me._

"Would you like to dance?" Ser Dale asked me, his clear brown eyes watched me with some level of anxiety.

A death grip was suddenly pierced my tender shoulder blade. Ser Dale's question seemed to bring back Petyr's possessive nature, and his drunken state only exasperated the situation. Jealousy was written all over his face, as Petyr grinded his teeth with frustration.  _He doesn't want you to go._

"Alayne?" the anxious knight asked.

"Father?" I asked, ignoring Ser Dale's quiet plea. "Do you mind?"

"Do as you like."

_That's not an answer._  "Pety-"

"You heard what I said," he growled, his brogue suddenly coming out in full strength.

I huffed at him and flung his arm off my shoulder. The chair scraped across the hardwood floor as I pushed it back, irritating my drug-addled brain and nettled nerves.

"If you don't want to-" Ser Dale began, but I interrupted him by taking his hand and leading him out onto the floor. Robert played a happy melody, the kind that made you want to dance whether you wished to or not. Ser Dale placed his hand gently on the small groove of my waist and the other in my right hand; he led the way, swaying me to and fro until the room began to spin. Ser Dale was not a skilled dancer, however, for he kept stepping on my toes; I couldn't help but laugh at him after the fifth incursion.

"You haven't even had anything to drink," I pointed out, after he stepped on my toe for the sixth time.

"I'm a terrible dancer, I know." He smiled at me shyly, that familiar boyish grin which inevitably lighted up his handsome features.

"Do you love birds want another song?" Robert jeered.

"Does he know something we don't," Ser Dale teased, as he led me around for the second dance.

I couldn't help but laugh at Ser Dale's remark, although I instantly regretted it once I heard a wine bottle slam against the wooden table behind me. "I want another one, Marg!" Petyr bellowed, an iron grasp chocked the life out of the bottle.

"But you've just had the last one."

"I don't care! Get me anything," he barked.

"There it is… that beautiful accent of yours!" Robert interjected. "Nice to hear the Fingerish brogue again. Makes me proud!"

"I don't give a fuck what you think!" His voice was full of malice as he said, "I don't give a fuck what  _anyone_  thinks!"

_Seven Hells! What have I done?_ I slipped out of Ser Dale's embrace and ran towards Petyr. "Father, come dance with me," I entreated, and took both of his hands in mine. "I've neglected you for far too long."

"Oh, Sansa," Petyr said in a sullen tone. His dark expression and mournful tone proved to me that the wine had finally ceded the last of Petyr's self-control.  _He can hardly tell Alayne and I apart now_ , I realized, as he let my true identity slip from his tongue.

"Why did he call you that?" Robert asked.

"He thinks-"  _Don't mess this up._  "He thinks I'm my mother, Sansa. That was her name."

"Well, I'll be damned. You must look just like her."

"I do…I did. Father might think I am Sansa for a little while, so you must excuse his strange behaviour."

As if on cue, Petyr muttered, "Sansa, please don't do this to me. I can't- I can't take anymore of it."

"Come, come," I said coaxingly. "You mustn't say such silly things. How about you dance with me? That will make you feel better?"

"You don't understand," He wailed, while he slowly rose to his feet. "Sansa, I lov-"

I placed a finger to his mouth, desirous to smother out the last of his words.  _He'll ruin everything if he keeps this up._  "Dance with me, Petyr," I said in the softest of tones. I steered him towards the open floor, and said, "Let's see if you're a better dancer than Ser Dale."

The utterance of his rival's name seemed to cease his swimming thoughts. He was eager to grab a hold of me the minute the music started to play, pressing his body against mine till I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Despite his drunken state, Petyr danced fairly well, spinning me around in an effortless manner, but soon the sudden movements took its toll for Petyr suddenly winced in pain. His feet began to buckle over and then he tumbled into my arms. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"I don't feel well," he mumbled into the crook of my neck.

I rubbed his back soothingly, and answered, "If that's the case, then its time you go to bed. Ser Dale, please help me carry my father upstairs."

Petyr grunted at the prospect of Ser Dale carrying him, but I ignored him and let the young knight take Petyr under one arm while I took the other. In no time at all, we carried him up the stairs until we stood before his door. I patted Petyr down until I found the keys, and then unlocked his sturdy door.

"Thank you, Ser Dale, for everything."

"If you need me I'll be downstairs," he reminded me.

"I know."

"Well, goodnight, Alayne," he whispered. He reached over my hand and kissed the back of it, before he made his way downstairs.

The minute he was gone I huffed at Petyr, and then shoved him through the door. "Really, Petyr?" I scolded him, after I locked the chamber door behind me. "If you can't handle a couple of drinks, then don't have any at all."

Petyr stumbled towards his bed, and that's when I noticed the room's sudden transformation. It could only be described as something beyond splendor: expensive silk sheets in a dark emerald colour, plush pillows, and soft, furry blankets festooned at the foot of his bed.  _Damn,_  I thought, as I watched Petyr fall face forward on his bed.  _Even his room smells good_ , I realized, as I noticed the faint musky smell of earthy pine and mint.

I heard Petyr groan into his silken sheets, so I went over to him to scold him further. "You can't sleep in that! Petyr, get up and change."

He grunted in reply, clearly determined to stay this way for the rest of the night. I grabbed him by the waist and shoulders, so I could roll him over on his back. Leaden eyes watched me dimly, as I hoisted him up off the bed and forced him to stand on his own two feet. I let out a long sigh and flicked my hair away from my face before I told him to take off his shirt. Petyr did as he was told, but his fingers were clumsier than ever, fumbling over the clasp over and over till I had enough. "Let me do it!" I hissed, and undid his doublet till his entire chest was exposed. I could feel the heat of his rays, as I folded up his doublet and placed it neatly on the bed. "Now take off your shoes."

Petyr stumbled backwards and plopped down on the soft bed. It took him a while, but eventually his boots were neatly placed at the side of his bed. He was still staring up at me when I said, "Your pants, too."

"I'll need your help for that one," he mumbled.

"Of course, you do," I shot back. I bent down on my knees in front of him, and instructed: "Stand up! Now lean on my shoulders… shoulders, not head, Petyr!" Slowly I unclasped his breeches, squinting at the minuscule buttons, while I wondered why Petyr always had to make things difficult. It wasn't until I began to pull down his pants down that I realized there was nothing underneath it. His hardened cock was the first thing I saw- inches away from face, dripping with his need; I looked up to see the darkest expression written across Petyr's face.

"Sansa," he slurred, as he stroked his hands through my tousled curls.

"I- I think I should go," I said through panted breathes.

"Please, stay."

"This isn't a good idea," I breathed, and quickly pulled down the last of his pants so I could leave.  _Look what you did to him- look what you've made him become._

"Don't do this," Petyr begged, once he realized I was heading towards the door. He sounded so weak, so vulnerable when he added, "Sansa… I love you, more than anyone."

"I'm sorry," I muttered, before I quickly closed the door behind me.

* * *

 I rolled over in my bed again, desirous of sleep, but how could I when all I pictured was Petyr's hardened cock? When all I could hear was the words he said in the lower levels of the house? When his final words continued to haunt me, ringing through my mind like a toilsome bell.  _He said he loved me_ , I thought, but don't we all say such foolish things when we were drunk?  _The wine must be getting to me,_  I pondered, as I sat up on my bed.  _Why else is my resolve breaking?_

_Lysa doesn't have to know,_  said a sinister-like voice at the back of my head. Suddenly, my resolve broke, I rolled out of my bed and snatched my silken robe at the foot of my bed. I draped it on, and headed out the door, tip-toeing my way down the darkened hall until I reached Petyr's chamber. I knocked slightly on the door and waited- he did not come, a sigh of relief escaped me as I turned around, but his door suddenly opened, and Petyr's blackened eyes caught mine.

"I- I-" was the only thing I could stammer out.

"What do you want?" he said sharply.  _He's angry with me,_  I realized, as he kept the door ajar, so I couldn't sneak through.

The longer he looked at me with those bitterly cold eyes, the more my courage was rising until I shoved the door open and replied, "You." Petyr hardly had any time to reply before I slipped off my silken robe in front of him, dropped it into his arms, and then took his hard, calloused fingers in my own, so I could drag him to bed.

 


	9. The Brazen Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

"Do you remember anything that happened last night?" I asked.

"No," Petyr said moodily. He rolled over to his side to get a better look at me. "Was it good?"

"Oh, yeah!" I replied, quickly covering my mouth to suppress my sudden fit of nervous giggles.

"Really?"

"Yeah." I bit my lip at him, while trying not to think about everything he had done.

"Fucking hell!" He cursed. "What did I do?"

I bit my lip harder at him and shrugged my shoulders at him in reply.

"Fucking- hell," he repeated, before he pinned me down on the bed.

"Are you going to do it again?" I asked, while stroking the long strands of grey hair along his temples.

"Do you object?"

"No."

"Good."

Our bodies began to swim across the silken sheets, bobbing up and down atop the perilous sea. His breath was like salt air, his skin tasted bittersweet, but it was his mouth that washed me ashore till I slammed into the headboard. His tantalizing tongue pinned me down upon the smooth rocks, and rocky crags. His hands were as restless as the birds of the air, fluttering here an there without a care. That portend sun, which rudely shined through windows and curtains should have signaled the end, but Petyr's body eclipsed the blinding rays.  _Darkness, darkness, darkness._ Why was there always darkness with him?

"Did I do this?" Petyr asked, as he sucked at my breasts. "Or did I do this?"

His thumb entered into my core, forcing his way through the barrier till I wringled beneath him. I bit my lip down hard as I peaked, felling the throbbing pressure between my thighs. I moaned out his name, as he held me in ecstasy.

"Or like this?" Petyr asked, as he applied more pressure till I whimpered in pain and then moaned from the sudden wave of pleasure he gave me. Petyr abruptly removed his hand, and slipped his body away from me. The sun's obtrusive rays blinded me, and so I had lost sight of my lover, but then I felt his grizzly beard against my bare legs.

"Petyr?" I asked anxiously, as the tingling sensation climbed up my inner thigh.

"I just wanted to have a look," Petyr said in a low tenor. "It is even more beautiful than I imagined."

My cheeks flushed into a bright shade of red, a similar colour to the unruly bush down below.

"I have missed that colour," Petyr mused, before his grizzly beard grazed through the coppery briar. His soft lips cemented itself there, cherishing the secret bower- this untouched territory. He let his chin rest there, while he looked up at me. "Do you trust me?"

"No."

"Smart girl." He blinked up at me with tired, languid eyes, reminiscent from the night before. Nevertheless, they glowed fervently, as he took in my pale ivory skin basking in the warm sunlight.

"What do you want, Petyr?" I asked, noting the suspicious looking lines trailing around his mouth as he grinned up at me.

"I already have what I want… it's right here in front of me."

"Hmmmm, that is nice, Petyr. But I'd rather you show me."

Petyr's jaw dropped. "Seven Hells, Sansa," he groaned, before he shifted himself backward till he was no longer in view. I was getting ready for the inevitable, closing my eyes with anticipation, but the loud clattering of a carriage outside our window forced Petyr's head to pop up off the bed. "Who the devil is that?"

He crawled out of the bed and unashamedly walked butt-naked towards the window. He stealthily peaked through the cracks of the curtain, and only then did he freeze in place from whatever caught his eye.

"What is it?" I asked, not liking the stony, impassioned profile Petyr was slowly taking on the longer he looked out the window.  _I've seen that expression only once before._  "Petyr?"

It was Littlefinger that turned his head, and looked at me with that cold, blank expression. "Get dressed."

"What is it?" I asked again, but this time there was an edge to my voice. "What are you not telling me?"

"Lysa."

"Oh," I said mournfully.  _Of course, she would have to come now._  I looked up to see Petyr watching me, probably wondering why I haven't snuck out of his bed yet.  _Oh no, not this time_ , I thought defiantly, before I sprawled myself out on the bed in front of him.

"Sansa?"

"What's the matter? Your afraid you'll get caught  _fucking_ me?"

Petyr blinked at me in confusement, tilting his head to the side while contemplating my unaccountable behaviour. He pursued his lips with slight annoyance before he warned, "I mean it…"

"Maybe, we should have her walk in the middle of it," I interrupted, and sat up to see his reaction. I licked my lips at him and added, "Or let her see me pleasure you."

"Sansa," Petyr said in a raspy voice, making it clear that he didn't entirely object to the idea.

We could hear the front door slam shut in the far corners of the house.  _She's here_ , I thought, and smiled up at Petyr with newfound pleasure. I rubbed the crumbled bed sheets in front of him, and said, "Come, Petyr, I'll make it all better."

The staircase started to creak as a lonely figure ascended the steps. Petyr panicked, and quickly grabbed my arm to lead me into his washroom. "Stay here, and don't make a sound," He warned in the severest of tones. The walls shook, after he shut the door behind him, and then I could only hear soft shuffling sounds as Petyr cleaned up after our mess.

Shivering in the cold I picked up his robe and draped it over my shoulders. A part of me wanted to intrude on the betrothed reunion, but common sense got the better of me. I stayed where I was, even when I heard Petyr's chamber room door unlock and open widely to let the intruder in.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Lord Baelish, but Lady Lysa is waiting for you downstairs. She is most  _eager_  to see you."

"Yes," Petyr said absent-mindily. "Tell her I am unwell and will be downstairs as soon as I can."

"Yes, m'lord."

"And let Alayne sleep in," he quickly added. "She was taking care of me last night, and I don't think she had a wink of sleep. She can come downstairs when she's ready."

"I understand."

"Then you may go." The door was promptly shut and locked behind him. I heard Petyr stalking his way back to the bathroom and opened the wooden door moodily. "You need to go."

"Do you really want to send me away, already?" I teased. I took in the furry blanket wrapped around his waist and laughed at the amusing spectacle. I slinked out of his robe and asked, "Where you looking for this?"

Petyr dropped the furry blanket wordlessly and reached over for his robe. I bent down on the floor, and handed it to him instead, ensuring I was right in front of his swollen cock. "Did I do that?" I asked, lightly stroking his member with my dainty fingers.

"You need to leave," Petyr reminded me, though he made no effort to move away.

"You know last night you asked me to do something most unseemingly, but now that I've had time to think about…"

"Don't," Petyr warned.

"It doesn't sound like a bad idea, after all," I said, and then looked up at his darkened features. It was then that I repeated back to him, "I know you want it… I know I want it… I know Lysa doesn't ever have to know."

"Sansa, please," He started, but it ended abruptly as I licked the length of his hardened member. Petyr whimpered before me, muffling his cries with his tightened lips. I moved around to the other side, feeling the rough grooves along my slick, wet tongue.

"Should I take all of it, as well?" I taunted, enjoying the sight of his red-hot face.

It was then that we heard a sharp rap on the door.  _Knock, knock, knock_ , a most abhorring sound to our ears. Petyr suddenly moved away from me and pounded the wall with his fist in frustration.

"Petyyyrrrrr!" called out his betrothed. "Are you in there?"

Petyr groaned. He layed the palms of his hands flat on the wall and pressed his brow against the wooden plank in front of him in defeat.

"I think you should get it," I said mockingly. I have never felt more sinful pleasure than the sight of Petyr's cock jutting out of his crisp white robe, as he sullenly stalked his way to the chamber room door to greet his future wife, Lysa Arryn.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I came up with this entire chapter during a church sermon? Neither can I. This must be the ultimate sin...


	10. Nothing But Twisted Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

"Oh! Are you happy to see me?" cooed Lysa, the moment she stepped into the room.

"Is it that obvious," Petyr teased. I heard him slam the chamber room door behind him, and that familiar  _chink_  as he twisted the lock.

"Very," Lysa said slyly. She began to giggle at the sight of Petyr's cock sticking out of his thick woolen robe, probably thinking it was her who did it.

_Fool_ , I thought, as I pushed my ear against the wooden door to hear what they were saying.

"Do you remember the first time we did it?" She asked coyly.

"Like it was yesterday."

"I would have borne you a son- strong and handsome just like yourself. But I was tricked! My father came to me with tea. He told me to drink it so that I'd feel better, but how was I to know what was in it? It tasted bitter, but not as bitter as the day I found out exactly what he did to me."

"Shhhh, Lysa," Petyr murmured. "The past is the past. We must look to the future now."

"Yes! The future is so much brighter! All of their efforts were in vain; my father's, my sister's, even Jon Arryn's, for now I have you Petyr- at last you are  _mine_."

"And I always will be," Petyr assured her. I could only assume he was kissing her for the room turned a deathly silence.

Lysa's nervous giggles broke the silence, it sounded so aerie and naïve. "Petyr, you mustn't!" she cried, and soon her laugh grew louder.

"Why not?" Petyr teased.

"Because we're not married yet!"

"How about I bed you, and then we get married?"

_He wouldn't_ , I thought worriedly.  _He would._

"I am the Lady of the Eyrie, and I command you to marry me first."

"As you wish, my Lady, your wish is my command."

_Damn, he's good._  Petyr was playing her like a fiddle. Still, it was hard to tell who was speaking to my Aunt Lysa- Petyr or Littlefinger. Even I was having trouble telling exactly where his mask began and where it ended.

"Then you shall marry me this instant!"

"Now?" Petyr asked worriedly. "Wouldn't it be better to marry you once we reach the Vale? After all, you are the-"

"I know who I am, Petyr. I don't need you to remind me," she reprimanded. "I have waited long enough for you. No, I shall not wait a minute more! I shall have you Petyr Baelish, and when I make love to you tonight I shall scream so loud the Eyrie shall hear it."

"I can hardly wait," Petyr said unconvincingly.

"And I shall bear you a son. Sweet Robin will be happy to have a playmate. The boys are far too rough with him, as late. No matter, he will grow big and strong once is Lord of the Eyrie.  _The seed is strong_ , those were his father's last words. But I imagine yours are stronger."

"Undoubtedly," Petyr said with mirth. "But your son shall be happy to have a new playmate by the time we get back to the Eyrie."

"Really? Who?"

_Don't say it! Don't you dare do it…_

"My daughter."

_Damn! He did it._

"You have a child. With whom?"

"A daughter of a Bravossian lord. Someone of little consequence. A fleeting affair to take away me away from all my troubles."

"Oh, yes! You have suffered as I," interrupted Lysa.

"I have, and a man takes out his frustration differently from a woman," Petyr concurred.

"You married her?"

"No, my sweet. The child was naturally born… there was no marriage between her and I."

"So, she's a  _bastard_ ," Lysa said with disgust.

"She is," Petyr answered soberly. Apparently Lysa did not take the news well, for there was a deafening silence.

_Will she turn me away_ , I wondered.  _Will she want to get rid of me? Why doesn't Petyr tell her who I really am?_

"What is the matter, my dear?" Her fiancé asked with cheerful ease. "Even the honorable Lord Stark had a bastard."

_He means Jon Snow._

"I suppose your right," Lysa said gravely. "And what do you intend to do with her?"

_Yes. What are your intentions with me_ , I wondered, as the silence fell between them again.

"Let me worry about that," Petyr said smoothly. "Now let me get cleaned up, so we can marry right away."

"Oh, Petyr!" She yelled, and then smothered him with kisses. "Oh, I shall give you a night you shall never forget."

"I can very well believe it."

Off went Lysa in a flurry of giggles, echoing down the halls as she fled down the stairs. It was so loud I didn't hear Petyr's familiar tread until he was right in front of the washroom door. I opened it and stared into his weary looking eyes.

"I know…" I said, while I passed by his slender frame. "Get dressed."

"Here," he said soberly, and placed my missing bed robe in my hand. "I had to hide it."

"Thanks."  _Lies, lies, lies. Why is it always lies with him?_

"Is that all you have to say?"

"What do you mean?"

"I expected you to be scolding me by now, or at least throwing a fit."

"What's the point?" I asked dismissively. "Your still going to marry her."

Petyr said nothing, that was all the answer I needed. I shook my head at him and uttered, "Nothing changes. I'm just a stupid girl, with stupid dreams, and I never learn."

"Your wrong," he droned. His eyes remained fixed on the floor as if he was in deep thought. "You just need to trust me…"

"Like Aunt Lysa? Or my mother?" I asked with annoyance. "How do I know your not playing me too?"

"It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" I asked in a shaky voice. "I don't know anymore. I don't know  _who_  you are anymore-"

"You know me better than anyone else," he drawled, as he finally looked up at me. Our eyes were locked together, inexplicably held together like an anchor tethering a boat in the midst of a storm. "Trust me."

"You ask for the impossible."

"No," he said in a low tenor. He steadily walked towards me, maintaining his heavy gaze that stripped me raw till I felt naked. "Everything that is  _possible_  is right here- in front of me. Trust me, Sansa, trust me."

I gave him a small nod and turned to leave. He made no effort to hold me back, and so I slipped through the door without another word.

* * *

By the time I came downstairs there was already a merry party gathering around the happy couple.

"Alayne!" Ser Dale called out, for he was the first to notice me. "You've come down at last," he said cheerily, and took my hand in his own. "I wanted to say goodbye. I'm heading off now."

"You're not staying for the wedding," I said sadly, suddenly wishing this kind, genteel knight would stay. "Must you go so soon?"

"I must. Your father is most insistent that I go."

"Aye, look at you two love birds!" Interrupted Freyes, as he clasped his hands atop of my shoulders. His breathe smelt like beer as he leaned in to whisper, "Ought to be careful. Wouldn't want to anger the boss."

"The boss?" I asked in confusement.

"He means your father," Ser Dale said matter of factly.

"Well, I'll be damned!"

"Aye, look at that fiery spirit!" Freyes yelled out. He jumped up and down in excitement, despite his limp leg and cane in hand. "I love it! I wish you both all the happiness in the world."

My cheeks burned scarlet red.  _That's not what I meant,_ I wanted to say. _I'm not interested in him that way- am I?_

"Alayne," Petyr said, while walking hand in hand with his betrothed. "Come meet my future bride."

_No! I don't want to meet her. I don't want to give her fake smiles and participate in this feeble charade._  It was too late, however, they were already upon us. Ser Dale's hand that was still in mine felt like an anchor in a storm, as Lysa's eyes trailed over my figure with envy. She was not happy with what she saw.

"May I present to you Lady Lysa Arryn, of the Vale," Petyr exclaimed. He turned to her and added, "This is my daughter, Alayne."

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last," I said sweetly.

"Your much older than I expected," she relayed.

"Aye, and prettier," Freyes rejoined, much to the party's dismay.

"I couldn't agree more," said a deep voice beside me. I looked up to see Sir Dale giving me the most thought-provoking stare. He wasn't looking at me- he was looking through me, and he loved what he saw.

"Yes," Petyr said in a strained voice, clearly annoyed at the scene before him. "Shall we go?"

"Oh, yes!" Lysa shrilled with excitement. "We have waited long enough."

And so, the lovers rambled off, relishing in the last few minutes together until they were officially wed. Trailing behind them was pale looking septon, a handful of knights from the Vale, and a blond-haired youth with a singing lyre, who played a charming tune behind them.

"This is where I must leave you," Ser Dale said, his grave tone of voice brought me back to the present. "I shall see you again soon."

"I look forward to it," I said lightly.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said softly. His dark brown eyes were full of feeling as he looked down at me, but I could not maintain a steady gaze with him; soon my eyes fell to the floor in defeat. "Farewell, Alayne," he mumbled under his breath, before he kissed my hand and left without another word. I lifted my eyes to watch him go, uncertain what the future held for Ser Dale and I.  _Time will tell_ , I thought, as I made my way through the front door to follow the wedding party.

* * *

My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. My heart, which was once soft and tender to the core had now become scorched and burnt, it was hard as iron, cold as ice. I watched them take their vows. Vows so holy it was sacrilege to have the thoughts that I was having now. Ah, but jealousy is like a snake in grass that bites when you least expect it. I felt it now- that poison which galled me, turning me into an insensate being without feelings or thoughts.

There is nothing worse than false hope. There is nothing worse than broken dreams. This dark secret love, which I have kindled for so long was at once snuffed out as Petyr's lips ceremoniously connected with Lysa's.

The ceremony commenced, and at once Petyr showered her with kisses.  _If only she knew where those lips had been earlier,_  I thought bitterly. Petyr lifted here up into his arms, and Lysa broke out in a fit of giggles as he carried her home.  _False promises and false hope_ , I thought, as Petyr assured his silly wife that he loved her. They went through the iron gate, treading along the unruly sward at the back of the house, passing a beautiful flock of shining sheep, and only when they reached the ruddy red door did Petyr set her down on her own two feet.

"My sweet Petyr," she said, before she enraptured him in her arms and blighted him with kisses. I was bereaved of his sight once he slipped through the door, and Lysa in her foolhardiness giggled after him like some love-sick child.

"Come, kiss my happy wife!" Petyr said the minute I walked through the door. Already the room was full, a large group of people were swarming around the newlyweds.

Lysa came to me with her arms open wide, her large bosom nearly knocked the wind out of me as she pulled me in. Her face was heavily powdered, and she smelled of sweet perfume, still an acrid fragrance lingered upon her true form. Her skin was dry and faded as I pecked her cheek. The bloom of her you was gone, and now Lysa Arryn simply looked old and haggard in appearance.

"Won't you come kiss your father?" Petyr asked.  _I'd sooner hit you_ , I mused, but now was not the time to be spiteful. We had a game to play, Petyr and I, and I couldn't give way to my feelings now. I kissed him lightly on the cheek, before I whisked away from his haunting touch that wished to hold me for a moment more.

"Let us eat!" Lysa shrilled. "Although, I'll hardly be able to keep the food down."

"Are you nervous, my dear," Petyr teased, as he led her to the dining room.

"Hardly, I know just what to expect from you."

"I think not," Petyr contended, the moment he sat down in his seat at the head of the table. "A lot can happen in twenty years. And being a brothel keeper does give you some experience."

"Oh, you  _wicked_  man!" Lysa yelled, as she sat beside him. She then leaned in to whisper something in Petyr's ear, which made him laugh. I noticed his eyes did not match his smile- no they were denuded of all feeling, cold and blank as the porcelain plate that was placed in front of him.

_He is hurting as much as I_ , I realized, as he glanced at me with deadened eyes. There is some hope yet. What that hope was I could not tell, but I could feel it- just as I could feel his gaze clinging to my own; suspended in animation, held for a single moment until he was forced to tear it away. Still, they were quick to return to mine. Grey-green eyes locked on to frosty blue. It was then that I remembered the fateful words Petyr said to me the night we first made love:  _When your so close to me- like you are now, I get the feeling that are fates are tied together. Intricately knotted, never to be torn apart._

Perhaps, that was the hope I was looking for- nothing but twisted fate.

 


	11. The King's Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

"Would you like some, my sweet?" Petyr asked, as he held up half of his pomegranate to his wife.

"Oh, no!" I am stuffed. I couldn't eat another thing."

"Not even a seed?" he asked, as he dug his valyrian dagger into the inner casing of the pomegranate. The juices dripped off the tip of his dagger as he suspended it in the air in front of his wife. If I had not seen the three seeds at the very edge of his blade, I could have sworn his silver-sheened blade was covered in blood.

"Not even a seed," Lysa said, and waved the dagger away from her face with her long, bony hands.

"Alayne?" Petyr asked, his grey-green eyes freezing me in place. "Would you like some?"

"Yes, father," I answered in the sweetest of tones.

"Just a seed?" he asked, while pointing his dagger towards me. "Or would you like to share  _half_ _?_ "

"I will share it with you," I answered him, eagerly taking the freshly cut pomegranate in my hands. The seeds had a sharp sour taste to it, something I hardly expected as I plopped several into my mouth. The juices ran down my fingers quickly, so I had to lick them away with my tongue.

"Yes, they can get messy," Petyr drawled, as he licked his own fingers as well. Ever so slowly he dragged his tongue over the tips of his fingers, sucking them dry before he went for more. Blood-red lips curled into a smile while he watched me, enjoying the sight of my tongue gliding across my lower lip.

"Would you like this as well?" He asked, as he held up a small orange with a darkish complexion. "I've had it delivered straight from Dorne."

"What is it?"

"A blood orange," Petyr said with amusement. He wiped his dagger clean with a napkin before he sliced it in two. Immediately, the dark juices began to drip down his hand and pool around his pearl-white plate. "Eat it quickly, before it turns bitter."

Petyr lifted it above his mouth and squeezed the orange till the juices squirted all over his tongue. I in turn, used the dainty dessert spoon to scoop out the tender pieces of the blood orange, making sure not to eat the pale white seeds.

"Do you like it?" he asked, as he dropped the crushed peel down on his plate.

"It's sweet."

"Yes," he said with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "It is."

Petyr took a sip of his wine, it had been the first and probably the last time he would enjoy the sweet savoury taste of Arbour Gold for the night. The event from yesterday evening made him want to abstain from the intoxicating substance. His wife on the other hand, was drinking it with gusto, topping it up at regular intervals. Since I was so low in spirits, I had opted for Robert Freyes' light amber coloured ale, a delicious tasting beverage to wash down the wild quail and autumn veggies.

"Have this," Petyr instructed, while he held his goblet of wine before me. "It will bring out the full flavour of the blood orange."

I did as he bid, placing my lips where his had been to sip the berry flavoured wine, relishing the bright citrusy taste.

"It is good, isn't it?" Petyr remarked, as he purposefully brushed his fingers against mine when I handed back the goblet.

"Yes, but I've tasted something finer this morning," I said slyly, as I licked the last of the blood orange in front of him.

Petyr bit his lip down hard, as he tried not to think about what I was implying. Seizing the opportunity of his involuntary weakness I stretched out my leg and ran it down the length of his outer leg and thigh.

Petyr looked down at the table, as if he could see the stealthy movements of my leg. He made no movement for me to stop, rather he leaned further in to my incessant movements. Poor Lysa, oblivious to our wicked gestures and sinful thoughts. Petyr caught my foot with his left hand, and slowly glided his fingers up the smooth grooves of my leg. It was my time to suffer, as he applied more pressure till I wriggled in my seat.

"Shall we dance now?" His wife asked in between her sips of wine.

"In a minute love, let me enjoy these last few moments," he said smoothly, while his eyes continued to burrow into mine. He plunged both of his hand beneath the table now, massaging the length of my leg till I let out a small groan.  _If only he could do that to my whole body,_  I thought, as I bit down on my crimson-stained lips.

Petyr's chair scrapped in, the sound slightly muffled by the singer's lyre. "Petyr, please," Lysa bemoaned, wishing her husband was moving away from the table, and not towards it.

"A moment more, love," Petyr shot back, his tone unexpectedly rough in manner. "I need more time for my stomach to settle, that's all. I'm sure the honourable Lord Royce would not object to dance with the Lady of the Vale."

"I would not," said the stout, grey old man who sat at her elbow. "It would be an honour."

"Dance with him," Petyr instructed. "I will be there before you know it."

Lysa was not exactly pleased, but she did as here husband ordered. The minute they were gone, and it was just Petyr and I seated at the table, did he finally look at me lustfully. "Now," he drawled, as his hands fled up both of my legs. "Where were we?"

I gasped as his hands reached my inner thigh, the length of my dress bunched up in folds beneath the table as Petyr continued to push it back. "Ah, there we were," he breathed, once his fingers were just inches away from my core. At last, it was the table that was his greatest foe- he could reach no further. He grunted in frustration, which made me laugh, my chest heaving up and down as I desperately tried to muffle my cries.

"I'm glad someone is enjoying this," he said bitterly, which made me laugh even more.

"Maybe another time then, hmmm," I taunted, before I pulled my legs back to my side.

"I should invest in a shorter table," he mused, as his hands returned to view. "One where I can reach  _all_ of you."

"Oh, Petyr. You never learn," I said sassily, noting the looming figure of Lord Royce fast approaching.

"Your wife insists you dance with her. She'll have nobody but you."

"As it should be," Petyr noted. He rose from his seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in his emerald coloured doublet. He was adjusting his golden sash when he mumbled, "I must go now, Alayne. Only a fool would keep his wife waiting."

_And he is no fool,_ I thought, as I watched him saunter off. I turned to Lord Royce, half expecting him to aske me to dance, but he busied himself with refilling his goblet of wine.

_It's probably because I'm a bastard,_  I deliberated, noting he was most careful to avoid my eyes. If he knew I was Sansa Stark then he wouldn't be so quick to ignore me. I remembered him as a child, the day he payed my father a courtly visit. But that was a long time ago, and Alayne Stone wasn't suppose to know that.

Alayne Stone was supposed to be a promiscuous bastard. A threat to married men and holy religious leaders alike. No one dared to ask me to dance, and so I sat at the dinner table, gingerly drinking my flask of wine and nibbling on a cold piece of bread. Those who did have a partner were singing and and dancing with light feet in time with the music. Lysa was the loudest of all, her cries of "Oh, Petyr! Petyr!" echoed throughout the room till I feared my ears would bleed. I let out a sigh of relief as the last note died away, and the newlyweds appeared.

"I don't know where your father gets all his energy from!" she exclaimed, after she took a long sip of Arbour Gold.

"How about you sit down and rest for a moment," Petyr suggested.

"Will you sit with me?" she purred, and patted the seat next to her.

"No, love, I was about to ask my daughter to dance," he said from the corner of his mouth. "It saddens me to see that no one has asked her for her hand."

"Yes, shame on you, Lord Royce!" Lysa said, before she smacked the poor man on his forearm. "Neglecting, Petyr's daughter."

"My Lady, I-"

"It is no matter," Petyr interrupted, "Come, Alayne." He held out his hand for me to take it. I placed my hand in his, and let him lead me to the dance floor.

"We're alone at last," he said, a smile threatening to cross his lips at the mere mention of it.

"Are we?" I insisted, feeling Lysa's hawk-like eyes hovering over us.

"You needn't worry about her," he pointed out. His hands slipped down just below my waist, it was a danger to go any further. "Your safe with me. I promise you that."

"I know," I said truthfully, while trying to catch up with his quick steps. Petyr was a skilled dancer; his performance last night put him to shame. His feet were nimble and swift, as he led me around the floor. My glowing green dress with rose-coloured embroidery spun effortlessly in the air. Green upon green blended together into a whirlwind, as black upon black mingled into one. We were the same, Petyr and I, I could see that now.

"Your mother taught you to dance," he observed.

"She did."

"She taught me as well, but that was very long time ago," he deliberated. " I loved your mother, but I love you more. You are far more than she ever was."

But what could I say to that? How does one respond to so queer a statement. I was left speechless under his heated gaze.

"Come, I have something to show you," he said, before he pulled me out of the crowd of dancers. "Look at this, " he murmured, and pointed at a withered shield nailed against the wall. It was faded and old, but you could still make out an iron giant plastered upon the shield. Flames of fire shot out of the holes where the figure's eyes would have been.

"A bit fierce, isn't it? I much prefer my mockingbird," he noted, and tapped at the silver pin placed upon my breast. "This shield belonged to my grandfather's father. He was a sellsword from Bravos, and when he entered this country he made a name for himself and created this coat of arms: a giant. So, you see I am a self-made man, whose come from a long line of self-made men. But you are different… you come from a great house, and blessed with a great name."

"I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry about," he assured me. "That is how this game works. The game of thrones, I mean. The important thing to remember is before you can build a better world, the old one must be demolished first. And that is where you and I come in."

Petyr paused to look at me, instead of the faded shield. His eyes studied me for a moment before he continued, "I want to build a  _better_  world with you. I want to rule it one day, and I want you by my side."

"Do you mean like a King and Queen?"

"That is exactly what I mean."

"But- but your married," I pointed out, half amazed at what he just said.

"I am," he said matter of factly. "But my wife looks so old and frail. It is only a matter of time till she falls ill, or worse…" Petyr cut himself off to look at me. He ignored my passive face and searched my eyes for any signs of weakness. "You needn't worry, Sansa, I wish her no real harm."

"Yes, but what you suggest is-"

"There is no armour against fate," Petyr jested. "Every instinct in my body down to the very last bone tell me this won't be a very  _long_  marriage."

He leaned into my frame, breaking our safely appropriate distance so he could whisper, "Believe me when I say, you and I won't have to suffer for very much longer.”

 


	12. The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

_Where am I?_

I was frozen to the bone as I wandered outside in nothing but a torn night dress. My feet were bare, as I stood in a pool of mud. It was dark out, a sliver of a moon hovered over snow-clad trees. The air was still, all was silent. An impenetrable fog rolled across the forest floor. Slowly, it rose till I could not see the snow crusted path before me. The foggy haze soon enraptured me, until everything around me was devoid of light. But the darkness did not scare me, not anymore.  _Sometimes even beauty can spring from darkness._ Petyr had taught me that; he had taught me so many things, and I had grown and learnt from them. But even he could not save me from this cloud of darkness, even he could not bring me back to the light.

The fog refused to lift, instead it grew thicker by the moment.  _I must leave this place,_  I thought,  _but where else could I go?_ The frosty air seeped its way into my skin, nipping at the tip of my nose and the very edges of my ears. I was chilled to the bone.  _I must go anywhere but here,_  I quietly resolved to myself, and so I took one step forward and then another, and very soon I began to trudge my way through an icy path that led to god knows where.

What does one do when they are blind? They stretch out their arms, of course, and so I stretched out mine in front of me, but I felt nothing but the cool night air. I waved them to my sides and felt something like hedge trees between my frost-bitten fingers. The leaves were damp and cold, but not as cold as I felt when I realized they acted like an impenetrable wall. My fate was sealed, I could only go forwards, and so I had nothing but my wits and this garden-like wall to guide me.

After a few minutes I carelessly dropped my arms to my sides, figuring this path would hardly alter from its present state. Ah, but that was my fatal error- the mistake that could cost me my life, for the path was inchoate, it had neither a beginning or end. I crashed into a wall of bay laurel leaves, and quickly discovered my destined path had led me to a dead end.

_I'll go right,_  I told myself, and wandered in that direction. It was open to be sure, the path was much rougher under my bare feet than before, and there were no hedge trees to get in my way. This stroke of good fortune was temporary, however, for I soon crashed into the insuperable wall again.  _How can this_   _be,_  I wondered, as I quickly began to realize the walls were at my front and sides now.  _Where on earth am I?_

The pale moon bursted out from a cloud and shinned its lustrous rays in front of me. And what did I see before my very eyes? Endless paths, as far as the eye could see, and great towering walls of bay laurel trees which separated them all. It created a maze, a labyrinth, if you wished to employ a more technical term, but it did not matter what one chose to call it for I was trapped in it all the same.

_It's a dream,_  my conscience whispered in the farthest corners of my mind.  _Wake up before it's too late._

I shut my eyes and held it in this natural state for a moment. "Please let it be a dream," I muttered under my breath. Slowly, I opened my eyes allowing myself to adjust to the dim lighting, but the foggy dew was still before me. I shuddered in despair and fell to my knees. "It's a dream, it has to be one," I wailed into my dampened sleeve. "Won't someone help me?"

As if in answer, I heard the faintest noise coming down from the heavens. A gentle  _shush, shush, shush_  echoed over the icy walkway. A mockingbird suddenly landed in front of me, clothed in black, except for the silver streaks down the sides of its wings. It tilted its head and chirped a high-pitched tune. I smiled at it, relieved to see a familiar sight. It chirped again, merrily this time and lightly hopped on its small straw-like feet towards me. This happy moment was broken by a sudden  _crunch, crunch, crunch_  behind me, as if something large and uncommonly heavy was marching its way through the hard-packed snow. The mockingbird angry flapped it's wing and let out a high-pitch shrill. Goosebumps immediately prickled at the back of my neck.  _It's trying to warn me,_ I realized, as the mockingbird's song feverishly continued. The mockingbird stretched out it's wings to the fullest, and then took to the air, fleeing in the opposite direction of the ominous sound. I sprinted after it, desirous not to lose sight of it, or else I would be lost in this labyrinth forever.

The mockingbird did not take the carefully laid out paths, instead it darted through small gaps in between the hedge trees and small holes for I to crawl through. And so, I ducked and dogged down these untrodden paths, unbeknown to anyone but the mockingbird and myself. Still, the shadowy creature continued to stalk us, never ceasing to follow my sporadic movements.

_Hurry, hurry,_  the mockingbird seemed to sing as it flew over the aspen coloured trees. We had slipped out the maze's awesome grasp, but our danger was far from over. I could still hear that horrid tread of the unknown creature behind me, and it was closing in faster than I anticipated.  _Run, run,_  the mockingbird sang, as it flew over my head, its graceful wings reflecting the pale moonlight. Soon, I ran across a clearing where no trees did dwell. The fog lightened a fraction, so I could clearly see what was before me and behind. In front of me was a barren field covered in snow, but it did not feel like snow beneath my feet, for it cracked and creaked with every step. I paused for a moment, greatly disturbed by the noise. I forced my hand down into the mound of snow, until my hands felt something rigid and firm beneath my fingers. I wrapped my hands around it and pulled it out from the deep layer of snow.  _It can't be_ , I thought, as I held the object up to the light.  _It must be,_  I realized, as the ghostly rays from the moon revealed a shard of human bone. I dropped it, and dug my hand into the earth again, only to retrieve what looked like a severed arm.

The mockingbird fluttered down and landed a few inches behind the upturned earth. Its sable eyes looked at me grievously. "What is this? Where are you taking me?"

_I'm taking you home,_  the wind seemed to say, as it blew past my cheeks.

"This isn't home," I replied. The pale light illuminated the silver sheen of a Lannister shield next to him. I unearthed it and held it in front of the pathetic looking creature. "What is  _this?_  Where am I!"

The mockingbird flapped its great wings and flew over to a frozen corpse not far from me. I walked over to it and saw a Baratheon soldier, the stag emblazed across his breastplate.  _Baratheon and Lannister,_  I thought,  _when last have have they fought against each other?_  The bird cooed softly beside me as I tried to uncover this mystery. "The War of the Five Kings? Is that what this is?"

The bird tilted its head at me, patiently waiting for me to figure it out for myself. I looked away from it and gazed across the vast barren land. "This is like a graveyard, isn't it?"

_Trust me, Sansa, trust me,_  the gale seemed to say as it violently brushed past me. It howled and whistled, but even all of that noise could not shut out the quickened steps behind me. The mockingbird immediately became possessive of me, as it gave out a long high-pitch cry. It fluttered towards me and landed on my right shoulder. It looked at me, and I at it, and to both of our surprise we fled at the same time.

My heart hammered against my chest as I sprinted across the open grave, the open sockets of the skulls seemed to be watching me as I made my way through. What was worse, I could hear the terrible cracking of bones, as the creature crushed them beneath his feet as it made its way through.  _Don't look back,_  a voice said in the wind, as the temptation grew in the back of my mind.  _Whatever you do, don't look back._ I didn't have too- I could see it's large shadow casting over me, as the vigil moon hovered over the creature and I.

The shadow stalker was closing in fast, I knew it by the way the mockingbird was practically screaming at me to run. I fled across the open field till the ground dipped beneath my feet, and I found myself stumbling down a steep hill. My foot caught on something, and then I tumbled the whole way down until I landed on a sandy sea shore. I let out a groan from the pain and the sheer exhaustion that overwhelmed me now. The mockingbird landed in front of me and chirped at me fiercely. I shooed it away, but it came back again with a vengeance. "Just let me be!" I yelled, but the obstinate bird was determined to get me back on my feet. I dug my fingers through the black grains of sand, half tempted to toss it at the bird, but its low mournful song stopped me in my tracks. It was full of love and horror and fear, it was his own song- I could see that now, so I pulled myself up off the ground and ran after this poor creature till we reached the shoreline. A boat shrouded in a cloud of mist suddenly appeared within view. A heavily cloaked man stood at the edge of the dinghy with a small lamp in his hand. "Do you wish to leave this place?" the man asked in a harsh, raspy voice.

"I do."

"Then you must pay a price _._ "

"I have no money," I said in a weak voice, and pointed to my person to show I had nothing but the clothes on my back.

"Then you must pay with a  _life._ "

I felt like something was caught in my throat.  _What did he mean a life?_   _My life or someone else's?_

The rear of the boat shifted, as if it was suddenly carrying extra weight. "A price has been payed," the man said, and turned away from me so he could retrieve his oars.

"Who's life?" I asked, as I wadded deeper into the murky water. The mockingbird who was sitting quietly at the tip of the dinghy, now chirped up a reply, but I did not know what it was saying.

The oars dipped into the still water, and the boat slowly ebbed away. I heard something plunge in the water behind me.  _Its coming!_

The mockingbird chirped frantically, as if it could see the thing behind me. The water continued to ripple away from me.  _There is more of them now._  "Wait!" I cried, as the boat started to retreat away from my view. "Don't leave me!"

The bird's cries grew louder, realizing I would not reach the dinghy in time. "Help!" I screamed, as hands cold as ice wrapped around my throat from behind. "Help me!"

It was no use, for another hand clasped my waist and pulled me under water. Deeper, deeper, deeper into the endless abyss until I could be seen no more.

"Did you hear anything I just said," asked Ser Dale, after I bumped into his chest.

I tilted my head upwards, feeling dazed and confused at the mere sight of him. "What?"

"You looked like you were out of it," He said with some concern, and made a point to stoop low so he could look into my languid eyes. "Are you still not sleeping?"

"No," I said grudgingly. "And when I do sleep I have nightmares."

"About Lysa," he teased.

"I wish. How can anyone sleep when she makes all that noise. I thought their marriage night was bad, but I think it's getting worse."

Ser Dale laughed at me, fully understanding what I meant since he had to suffer through it too. Last night was probably the worst one of all. The nightmare that still felt fresh in my mind didn't make the situation any better.

"It's only been a week, just give it some more time. They'll get bored of each other soon enough."

"I suppose you're right." I looked away from him to see the hardened dirt path in front of us. It was so different from the one in my dream. Ser Dale cheerful presence after an hour's walk was enough to ease my mind and distract me from that terrible dream.

"I was asking you why your father is suddenly taking an interest in me," the young knight said, as he drew himself closer to my side.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing he is practically encouraging me to spend more time with you," he related with some uneasiness. "And another, he suggested that I join you on your walks from now on."

"He just doesn't want me to go alone, that's all."

"Perhaps," he said, while wearing a lazy smile. "Or, perhaps, not."

"You know how over protective my father is."

"All to well."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

"This is Lord Baelish we are talking about! I have everything to worry about."

I shook my head at him, sensing this conversation would not bode well for either of us. "You do not like my father?"

"It's not a question of liking… I don't…"

"Don't… what?"

"Trust- him."

"Good. He's not a man to be trusted," I quipped, before I shot him a brash smile.

"Your too much like him," he mused, and turned his head to look at the clear blue sky overhead. He remained in this tranquil, reposed state till I asked him if that was a bad thing. Ser Dale fidgeted with the hilt of his sword before he answered, "It's a good thing, but it's also a bad thing. All I know is the two of you together can only lead to trouble."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. "You know me to well, Sir Dale."

"Just call me Dale," he said softly. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me with a great depth of feeling. "None of this formality. Everyone here knows how I feel about you."

I looked down at my feet knowing that what he had said was true. Ever since Dale had returned to The Fingers, the two of us have been almost inseparable. He always found a way to make me smile and laugh at my own misery, but I did not love him. The man I loved was currently hiding from his wife in his solar.

"Take that young knight of yours," Petyr said, when I asked him to go take a walk with me.

"But I want to go with you," I whined, it was the same voice I used on my father when I wasn't getting my own way. But Petyr was no Ned Stark, it had no powers over him.

"You know how busy I am," he said soberly, before he buried his head back into the stacks of papers sprawled across his desk. "I had no idea I married such a demanding wife."

_Well, who's fault is that,_  I wanted to say, but Petyr's disheveled hair and tired expression quickly curbed my wanton tongue.

"You look unwell," Petyr observed. "Make sure you take a nice  _long_ walk with Ser Dale."

"I can't sleep," I admitted, and decided to ignore the rest of Petyr's comments. "And my head won't stop aching."

Petyr's pen halted on the page. He looked up at me with concern and asked, "Anything else?"

"No. But if you could ask your wife not to yell so loud in the middle of the night, that would be greatly appreciated."

"I will do my best," Petyr quipped, before his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"Alayne!" Ser Dale barked out, ultimately shattering the last of my thoughts. "You're not listening to me  _again._ "

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice the sudden flushness of my cheeks as I was still considering all the things I would have done to Petyr and his precious little desk, if it wasn't for Lysa standing just outside his solar door.

"What are you thinking about in that head of yours?"

"You."

"Really?"

_No,_  I thought,  _but it's much better than the truth._  Dale slipped his hand into mine, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He gave me a flirtatious grin before he asked, "What was it exactly?"

_That I wish it was Petyr here, instead of you._  "Oh, I couldn't possibly tell you," I cooed.

"Why not?"

"Because it's a secret."

"I have a secret too. Would you like to hear it?"

"If you wish."

"I would very much like to kiss you."

_I wish you kept that to yourself._ Ser Dale spoke in a silky voice when he added, "And you know what else…" pausing to kiss the back of my hand tenderly.

"What?" I said with a great deal of uneasiness.

"I'd like to make you my wife."

 


	13. Misery Loves Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

I stood on top of Caledeen Cliffs, taking in the breathtaking scene before me. They say this is the best view in all of The Fingers, and how could it not be when I saw the quaint white marble stones nuzzled in the tall stalks of grass, and beyond it the steel grey sky and rolling sea. I could see almost all of The Fingers from here, it truly was a magnificent sight.

I kneeled before the marble tomb stones and studied the names chiselled upon them. Petyr’s ancestors were buried her, all lined up in a neat little row just edges away from the cliff. I placed my hand atop of Petyr’s mother’s grave, and said a silent prayer for her soul, just as my mother had taught me to do when I was a small child. A sigh escaped me as I rose up from the ground and began to look at the other graves. I noticed a dark shade of azure blue peeking out from one of the stones. It was a prairie gentian flower; the last surviving flower on this cold autumn’s day, a remnant of the warm summer days that once blessed these rocky cliffs. Those pleasant days are gone now- _Winter is Here._ I was twirling the vibrant blue flower between my finger and thumb when I heard a soft tread behind me.

 “I thought I’d find you here,” a familiar voice said behind me.

 “Oh,” I said, as I turned around to face Petyr. “And why is that?”

 “A little bird told me.”

 “Freyes?”

 “Freyes,” he assented, and walked towards me in a care-free manner, as though he had all the time in the world.

 “What is that?” I asked, noticing Marg’s tartan blanket was tucked underneath his arm.

 “A present,” he teased, while he pulled it away from his body and handed it to me.

 “You’ve given me better.”

 “I have, haven’t I?” he remarked in a curious tone. The corner of his lips tugged into a smile, but he quickly banished it as he uttered, “It was Freyes idea.”

 “Oh, Freyes! He’s always worrying about me. Did you know he didn’t want me to go out alone?”

 “Yes, I know. He was quite adamant that I hurry after you,” he remarked. Again, his lips started to twitch into a smile, but Petyr was quick to snuff it out. _He is definitely up to something._ He tilted his head to the side and in a deep husky voice he said, “I am curious why you did not ask Braes to come with you.”

 “Well…” I stammered out, while I took a few steps away from him. _Does he know? Did Sir Dale tell him?_

 “Yes, Sansa,” Petyr drawled, his steps quickly mimicking my own until I was on the cliffs edge.

 “I didn’t…”

 “Didn’t…” he echoed. I could go no further, already I could hear the roaring of the sea beneath me.

 “I didn’t encourage him.”

 “Hmmm,” Petyr muttered, as he stroked the shadow of his beard. There was nothing for him to stroke now for his face was completely shaven. Lysa had insisted he cut it all off, and Petyr had no choice but to comply.

 “It’s not how it looks,” I said out of desperation.

 “Strange,” he mused. “Strange that Braes should come into my office this morning and ask for your hand.”

 “I never said yes.”

 “But you didn’t say _no._ ”

 “Petyr, I-”

 “What am I to think, Sansa,” he drawled out with annoyance.

 I fidgeted with the blanket, unable to form a single sentence under his heated gaze. Petyr pursed his lips to the side of his mouth, making his jawline tighten from the strain. “I told him no,” Petyr finally said, “And when he comes looking for you I hope you tell him the same.”

 I nodded my head in understanding, before I averted my gaze. Petyr walked towards me and closed the awkward gap between us. In a soft voice he asked, “Tell me, Sansa, what is the matter?”

 “I’m miserable.”

 “You haven’t been yourself lately,” he observed, while he tried to catch my downcast eyes.

 “I wish you never married Lysa,” I said bitterly.

 “I know, sweetling. For what its worth I wish I never married her too,” he whispered, before he kissed me on my brow. “Sometimes I do things that doesn’t make sense. But you must remember Lysa is a pawn. And when the time is right I’ll-” He cut himself short and let his lips form into a lopsided grin. “Well, I can’t tell you everything. Where is the fun in that?”

 “Petyr, you are cruel,” I sulked.

 “No,” he drawled, while his eyes flickered between my eyes and lips. “I’m kind. One day, this will all make sense. I promise you that.”

 I grunted in reply and pushed my head into his chest. Petyr wrapped his arms around me and brushed his fingers through my hair coaxingly. “It will be alright, Sansa, you’ll see,” he said soothingly. He lightly pushed me away from his chest, so he could look me in the eyes. “I need you to do something for me.”

 “What is it?”

 “I need you to _not_ give Braes an answer.”

 “What?” I exclaimed with disbelief. “But I thought you just said-”

 “I changed my mind,” he said quickly. “I need you to tell him you wish to think about it, and you’ll give him an answer when your ready. I need you to lead him on.”

 “But why?”

 Petyr’s lips formed into a menacing grin. His features took no a look I did not like, it reminded me of Littlefinger. “Oh, my sweet Sansa, what did I tell you we need to do in order to win the game?”

 “Make unpredictable moves?”

 “Yes, and what else?”

 “We have to make sacrifices.”

 “Or what I like to call a necessary evil. Lysa is mine. Being a bastard is yours. But Braes- we must share that burden.”

 “Share it? I don’t understand.”

 “I have discovered a flaw in my plans,” he said quickly, his eyes darkened as he said it. “A happy accident, but it is an inconvenience all the same. When the situation arises, which it will, I need Braes to take the fall.”

 “Can’t it be someone else?” I asked, feeling a strong sense of guilt if Ser Dale should have to suffer an unfortunate fate.

 “No, sweetling, it _must_ be him.”

 “Will you at least tell me why?”

 Petyr pursed his lips as his eyes trailed over me. Once satisfied with whatever it was that was gnawing away at his mind, he said, “I cannot. But when the time is right you will know all.”

 Petyr took my hand and led me away from the cliffs edge. As we walked through the rows of tombs he said, “Come, let us speak where the dead can’t here us,” and stirred me towards the rocky steps that would lead us to the shore.

* * *

 Petyr reached for my hand and interlaced our fingers together as we approached the opening of a large cave. The horrid mouth gaped open wide at me, but anything was a relief from the pouring rain that had suddenly washed over us. We hopped over open crags, barely touching the heaving sea as we made our way around the last bend. With one last look behind me I followed Petyr into the darkling cave.

 I could vaguely distinguish the sound of rain as we made our way further into the cave. Petyr stopped at a large boulder illuminated by the pale sunlight and began to pile up his wet clothes there: His jacket, his boots, his shirt and finally his soaking wet pants. Once he was completely naked he instructed me to do the same.

 “But why? It’s cold,” I sulked, while shivering form the draft over head.

 “Because if you don’t than you’ll really catch a cold, and I can’t have that,” he said in a fatherly tone. He then went over to me and unclasped the complicated buttons of my cloak. Once he stripped it off my shoulders, he hung it up to dry next to his own.

 “Did you know this would happen?” I asked suspiciously, as he helped me slip out of my dress.

 “I have no control over the weather, Sansa,” he teased. He knelt down and slowly inched up my dress. Little by little he saw my feet, my calves, my knees, my thighs, and then he stopped at my hips. His eyes flickered up at me, blazing with desire. The corner of his lips curled into a smile, while his face darkened. I swallowed hard as he pulled off the last of my dress in a slow manner, making each second feel like an eternity until I was completely free of it. The dress dropped down with a _splat_ beside me, before I wrapped my arms around Petyr and kissed him.

 “Wait,” he said, as he pulled himself away.

 “What is it?”

 Wordlessly, Petyr knelt down on his knees and began to kiss my feet. Ever so slowly his lips crawled up my leg, making each kiss burn away my icy skin. I pressed my fingers down into his slick wet curls, letting it slide back and forth as Petyr continued to roam around my legs. “Petyr, please, I moaned, hardly being able to stand because of the aching between my legs. He ignored me and continued to make his way upwards till his eyes could look up into my core.

 “Are you wet for me,” he asked in a husky voice. He placed his lips around it, kissing it with his soft wet lips. “Or do I have to try harder.”

 I moaned in reply, hating this game he was playing with me. Petyr looked up with tightened lips, trying to contain his laughter. He looked down again and glided his bottom teeth up the inside of my thigh. Nibbling at it lightly, enough to leave a mark before he rose himself slowly till he was facing my stomach. Petyr’s firm hands wrapped around me, nuzzling itself at the bottom of my spine. He then planted a long kiss on my stomach before he looked up at me. “I do love you so,” he breathed in a voice full of strange energy.

 I stroked his dark curls away from his face and whispered, “I know.”

 Petyr another kiss to my stomach before he rose himself up completely and kissed me with such passion that I was left in a daze. He released one hand from me and grabbed the tartan blanket from the boulder and tossed it on the floor. “Lay down,” he ordered in a sharp tone, and spread out the blanket around me.

 “So, you did take this for a reason,” I exclaimed with slight disbelief.

 “It was a necessary precaution,” Petyr replied in a smooth voice.

 “You planned this out all along, didn’t you?”

 Petyr’s eyebrows arched up at me inquisitively. “And, why would you think that?”

 “Because I know you.”

 Petyr laughed at this, as he crawled on top of me. “Cloaks that are smeared in mud make people ask awkward questions. But a blanket, such a this, can easily be replaced. No one will ever know what we’ve done.”

 “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

 “Well, you know what they say- misery loves company.”

 I let out a sharp intake as Petyr pulled me in and began to rock me. I clawed at his back, breathless as he eased himself in.

 “Oh, Petyr,” I breathed, as my head drifted back upon the floor and leaned in to plant kisses. My hand wandered up and down his spine feverishly, as his feet teasingly scrapped the sides of my legs. “Petyr- please,” I pleaded, as he was dragging out the inevitable.

 “Let me take my time, love,” he said in between kisses. “We have all the time in the world.”

 He was right, of course. The rain was coming down hard outside, and it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. Petyr paused, he moved back and stroked his thumb down the length of my cheek. “What would you like me to do first?”

 “Fuck me,” I said without hesitation, annoyed that he would even ask me that.

 “And after that?”

 “What?”

 “After- that,” he repeated, and licked the outer corner of my lip before he kissed it.

 “I don’t know,” I spat out, unable to think clearly.

 “Luckily for you, I have a few ideas,” he noted. He leaned in and kissed me zealously, opening up his mouth till he could practically swallow me whole if he wanted too. He slipped inside of me, and rode me at a slow, easeful pace. I rocked underneath, placing my hands at the bottom of his spine to level me. A sigh escaped me as he plunged himself further into me. The sensation was so strong- so pleasant that grabbed the back of his head and covered his face with kisses. I trailed along his jawline, missing the familiar feeling of his stubble scratching my cheek. I kissed down the side of his neck as well, and I was about to nibble at his throat when he stopped me.

 “No marks. I am a married man now.”

 “Is that so?” I said, while my hands slid down to grip at his firm ass. “Tell me, does Lysa touch you like this.”

 Petyr grunted as I dug my fingers into his ass. “Does she kiss you like this?” I asked, before I forced my tongue into his mouth to kiss him in the most sinful manner possible.

 “Sansa,” Petyr moaned, as I flicked my tongue up at him after I had my fill.

 “Fuck me, Petyr. And do it hard, or not at all.”

 Petyr pushed himself into me, rocking me at a vigorous pace till I groaned beneath him. I stretched my legs out further, letting him ram himself all the way into me.

 “Seven hells, Petyr!” I whined, the moment Petyr made me peak. A harmonious noise escaped his lips as he laughed, thoroughly enjoying my reaction. His fingers dug into my hips, before he lifted slightly off the ground before he drove into me further. I whimpered like a child as Petyr took me at unwarranted pace. “This is what you asked for,” he breathed, as my hips bulked beneath him, and true to his word he fucked me hard.

 I was still breathing frantically by the time Petyr eased himself out. “I’ll give you a moment to rest,” he said slyly. He crawled over to my side and began to lap his tongue all over my breasts.

 “Only a moment?” I asked worriedly, not like the way he looked at me from the corner of his eye. _He still hasn’t had his fill yet._

“Are you tired already, sweetling,” he said darkly.

 I made a small whimpering sound as his fingers began to swirl around my inner thigh, which was now swollen and extremely tender from the bruises Petyr had just given me from his rough fucking. His hands continued to wander while he hummed a song softly to himself, it was The Donishman’s Wife, a favourite of his. The minute he hit the chorus he tore my legs apart and planted himself close to the center.

 “Again!” I said with exasperation.

 “Only if you want me too?”

 “Petyr…”

 “Yes, my sweet.”

 “Do you have any idea what you just did to me?”

 “I did exactly what you asked of me,” he said with a straight face, but I could see the hidden amusement in the depths of his eyes. He flattened out his hands and rested it at my ankles. Petyr tilted his head slightly to the side as if he was contemplating something. “Hmmm,” he murmured, the moment his hands started to glide up my legs. “What should I do next?”

 My mouth went dry under his lecherous stare. Petyr pursed his lips as a few thoughts flickered into his mind. “Close your eyes, Sansa.”

 “Why?” I asked worriedly.

 “Because I want you to feel everything.”

 “What are you going to do?” I asked, like an inquisitive child.

 Petyr chuckled low to himself and answered, “What will I not do to you. Close your eyes, Sansa, and lay perfectly still.”

 I shut my eyes closed, suddenly noticing the eerie silence in the cave. I sighed, feeling my body was ready to sleep when I felt something prodding inside of me. I jumped up, but Petyr quickly pulled me back down and pinned my legs firmly to the ground. I felt the sensation again, circling around the inside of me to my horror. “Petyr,” I said in a frightened voice, uncertain of what exactly he was doing to me.

 “Yes, my sweet,” He said in a strange tone, it was low and hoarse. It was filled with desire.

 “What are you doing?”

 “I am worshiping you.”

 “What?”

 “Don’t you trust me, Sansa.”

 “Yes.”

 “Then believe me when I say I know what I’m doing,” he said annoyingly.

  _He’s a brothel keeper, of course, he knows what he is doing._

“Now lie down, and don’t move. Are you ready?”

 “Yes, Petyr,” I said meekly, feeling like a naïve child under his heated gaze.

 “Close your eyes,” He instructed in a much softer tone.

 The prodding feeling started up again. I could feel it moving upwards, slipping into my core. It caused a strange sensation, which made me yelp while my hips bulked upward. Petyr grunted, and pinned me down on the floor again. It went deeper this time, but this time it was not so painful or strange, it was pleasurable. I made a small whimper noise, as Petyr continued, and buckled my hips upward from the burning sensation. Right on cue, Petyr eased himself into me and began to make love to me again.

 “Oh, Petyr,” I moaned in pure ecstasy. He bit down on my bottom lips, pulling it out before he let it slip back into place. He was rocking my harder, grinding me against the rocky ground. Finally, I had enough and groaned, “Petyr, please, let me pleasure you back. Please!”

 Petyr smiled, it was one of his rare genuine smiles when he was truly happy. “Seeing you like this is all the pleasure I need,” he said, while stroking my hair away from my face.

 I shook my head at him and said, “Teach me. Show me how to pleasure you, like you have done to me.”

 “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

 “I know,” I answered back, after I gave him a weak smile. “But I want to.”

 Petyr nodded his head in understanding, before he eased himself out of me. He staggered upwards and motioned me to remain on the floor. “Alright, Sansa, have your way with me,” he teased.

 “But I thought-”

 “You’re a grown woman,” he interrupted. “I’m sure you can come up with a few things.”

 I bit my lip up at him. “Does that mean you are completely at my mercy?” I asked in a strained voice. My voice felt dry at the thought of all the things I could do to him.

 “Completely.”

 I let my fingers glide up his cock and asked, “Entirely?”

Petyr visibly shuddered at the contact, before he reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. I glided it upwards again, harder this time as I taunted, “I can’t hear you, Petyr.”

 Petyr bit down at his lips, his face flushed a bright shade of red. I wrapped my hand around his cock and gave it a squeeze. “Petyr,” I purred, watching his eye lids blink open and close slowly. _He’s losing it,_ I thought with glee. I released my grip, and leaned in to kiss his swollen cock instead.

 “Sansa?” he asked in surprise. Hands that were once busy stroking away my black tresses suddenly stopped and inched my face away from his member. He lifted my chin upwards so that I would face him before he said, “No whore would ever do that.”

 “I am no whore.”

 “I know,” he said, a small smile escaped him. “You are so much more than that.”

 “I love you, Petyr. I have no shame in what I do.”

 “Come here,” he said, before he rose me to my feet and took my breath away with his fury of kisses. He suddenly lifted me high into the air until I broke out in laughter. He laughed as well, a rare sound escaped his lips, it was so odd to see deep lines etched into his cheeks and the small dimples that graced the center of it. _He’s happy,_ I thought, _I made him that way._

The rain was lifting off, but neither of us was willing to venture outdoors. I wished I could stay here forever. When I looked deep into Petyr’s grey-green eyes, I knew he felt the same way. He settled me down and stroked the sides of my cheek tenderly, completely enamoured at what he saw.

 “Petyr,” I said in a hush voice. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

 “Why would you say that?”

 “Because the future is so uncertain, and Lysa-”

 “I will never let her hurt you.”

 “I know, but-”

 “Sansa, I would do anything for you. I’d lay down my life if you asked it. I promise I will never let you out of my sight again.”

 I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly. I never wanted this moment to end- not ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally! I am all caught up with my previous posts on fanfiction.net. I apologize to anyone who felt the need to binge read through my chapters. I promise I never intended to take over your lives like a good Netflix show. The next chapter "Slippery as a Snake" will be posted later on today, so keep your eyes peeled for any updates. As always, enjoy the climb!
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish


	14. Slippery as a Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

I had just finished taking a bath when I heard a knock on my chamber room door. I tightened my bathrobe, making sure it covered all the marks that Petyr had given me before I went to the door.

"Lady Lysa?" I said in surprise the moment I opened the door.  _Does she know?_

"So, its Lady Lysa now," she said in a cold voice. She forced herself through the doorway and strode into the center of my room, eyeing my wet clothes that was hanging on the back of my bathroom door with suspicion.

"Cloaks that are smeared in mud make people ask awkward questions,"Petyr had whispered into my ear a few hours ago. "But a blanket, such a this, can easily be replaced."

He tore up the blanket into tiny pieces once we had ravished each other fully for the third time. I could still remember the sinister-like smile he wore, as he sliced the thick woolen fabric with careful precision. Once he was done he handed the threads of fabric to me and instructed me to toss it into the heaving sea. "No one will ever know what we've done," he assured me, as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Least of all Lysa."

"I know who you are," Lysa blurted out. The sharp tone in her voice quickly brought me back to the present moment. I looked up to see her hawk-like eyes burrowing into mine. "I should have known. Of course, Petyr would risk his neck to save you-  _Cat's_  daughter."

She walked towards my wet dress and stroked the wet fabric pensively, as if she was trying to uncover the truth. She lifted the dress off the hook and held it in front of her. Lysa huffed in frustration and threw it back on the hook with a dismissive air. "She never loved him, you know. Oh, she enjoyed him for a little while but when the time came she cast him off without a second thought. But I- I stayed true to the end, and I shall have no one get in the way, especially  _you_."

"You have nothing to worry about, Aunt Lysa," I said softly, feeling like a bird trapped inside of a cage. There was something unsettling about Aunt Lysa, as if the wrong word would set her off completely.  _I must tread lightly with her,_  I thought.  _If only Petyr was here, he would know what to do._

As if my Aunt Lysa had an inkling of where my thoughts were turning to, she said, "Petyr says you are just a child, but when _I_  look at you I see a woman. I shall say this only once- stay away from my husband."

"I don't understand…"

"I see the way he looks at you! I see the way  _all_  men look at you, and you enjoy it, don't you? Your just like your mother… proud, arrogant…"

"I am not!"

"No? I heard Ser Dale has asked you to marry him, and still you have not given him an answer."

"I need more time to think about it."  _It was a feeble excuse, but I had to go along with Petyr's plans. I just hope he knows what he's doing._

"It is either a yes or a no. There is no reason to complicate things."

"I haven't known him for very long yet."

"Liar!" She blurted out. "Do you think I'm a fool? That you can outsmart  _me!_ You are so much like your mother. Not even your dyed hair can change that."

"I'm telling you the truth-"

"The truth?" She echoed, a madness seemed to flicker in her eyes. "Tell me, has Petyr touched you?"

"What?" I said out of confusement.  _This woman really is insane._  "No! I swear it by the old gods and the new."

"I will know if you're lying to me!"

"I swear to you he hasn't. Lord Baelish has been nothing but kind to me, but he has not touched me."

She grunted in response, and then moved away from me. "He is kind to you, isn't he? He looks at you and he see's Cat twenty-years ago. Petyr pretends he isn't sentimental but believe me he is. Oh yes, I know him better than anyone. He hides  _nothing_  from me."

She edged herself closer to my frame as she said, "Did you know your husband escaped? Yes, its true. The imp is still alive! Which means you are still legally married to him."

_No, it can't be! Tyrion is still alive? Petyr said he was to be executed. Was he lying to me? Or was he only telling me half the truth?_ My right hand began to unconsciously rub my wedding finger on my left hand, as if I could still feel the ghost of the ring I handed over to Petyr a week after I was smuggled onto his boat. I was sad when I first gave it to him, but after a while I felt nothing but relief to know I didn't have to wear that dreadful thing again.  _I should be happy to hear this news, shouldn't I? But I don't feel happy,_ I realized, as I stroked my wedding finger harder.  _I was supposed to be a widow. I was supposed to be free, but now I'm legally married to a King slayer- the man who poisoned King Joffrey._   _Is that why I feel so empty inside?_   _As if that last bit of hope has been snuffed out._

Lysa smiled at my misery, sensing I wasn't entirely pleased to hear the news. "Petyr hasn't told you, has he? Oh yes, my husband is as slippery as a snake. He can make you believe one thing while he does another. If you believe he is working in your best interest than you are  _wrong._ "

My jaw clenched when she said those last few words _. She's wrong! Petyr does care for me. He would never betray me._ As if she was reading my thoughts again, she said, "Petyr is sending out men as we speak to capture your husband. He is quite determined, as am I, that you should marry my son, Robin, as soon as he is of age. Our two great houses shall be joined together as one. Only then do we strike down the Lannister armies, and remove them from the Iron Throne. So you see, you are nothing to him. You're just a child that needed to be steered in the right direction, so Petyr can reach his final goal."

"And what is that?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Petyr wishes to be King of all of Westeros, and I have every intention to be his Queen."

* * *

 I was halfway down the stairs when I heard a door slam to the right of me. I turned my head to see Petyr locking up his solar room door. He slipped the key into an inconspicuous pocket in his cloak before he turned around and froze at the sight of me. "Alayne," he said, a small smile tugged along the right side of his mouth. It was probably rushing back to him, everything we had done to each other in the cave. I could not share this precious moment, however, for my mind was still greatly distressed from the news Lysa had given me.

"He's as slippery as a snake," Lysa had said.  _But if he is the snake than who is the rat? Who does he prey upon and deceive when no one is looking?_

"Alayne? Whatever is the matter?" He asked in a low tone. He slowly walked around the main room, all the while taking me in.  _He_   _knows something is wrong._  I looked away from him and continued down the long, windy staircase, but Petyr was quick to skip up the stairs and box me in. "What are you not telling me?" He asked with concern, his eyebrows knitted together as he studied my blank face.

"It's nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing," he observed, noting the sharp tone of my voice.

'Please, just let me pass."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." He laid a hand on the side of my arm, and added, "You can be honest with me, you know."

"Like you are with me."

"Yes, of course."

"You are such a liar, Petyr!"

Petyr dropped his arm and looked at me gravely. "What do you know?"

"That my husband, Tyrion Lannister, is still alive. Something you conveniently forgot to tell me."

"I thought it was for the best."

"Oh, really?"

"Some lies are love, sweetling," he said soothingly.

"So, it was love that kept it from me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said in a hush tone. He placed both hands to my sides of my arms now, as if he was trying to draw me in. "You should know by now how much I care for you."

"Yes, but-" I stammered out, feeling lost in those beautiful grey-green eyes. "I deserved the right to know what happened to Tyrion."

"You did. Perhaps, I made an error in judgement in not telling you the truth. But believe me when I tell you I thought it was for the best."

"Petyr, I  _need_  you to be completely honest with me from now on."

"I will," he breathed, as he enraptured me in his arms.

"Lysa has told me some things- terrible things I refuse to believe in. Still, every lie has some truth in it." I moved away from him, so I could see the truth in his eyes. "Did you tell her you wanted to rule all of Westeros with her as well?"

"I might have implied it," he said with a sheepish grin. "Lies and Arbor Gold does do wonders, especially with a placid mind like Lysa's. She believes anything I tell her-"

"And how do I know you're not doing the exact thing to me?" I interrupted.

"Oh, is that what you think?" Petyr asked slyly. He took a step away from me and leaned against the bannister. His calculating eyes studied me for a moment, his hands swiftly interlaced themselves together before they were pressed down just below his chest. I heard Littlefinger's raspy voice escape his lips as he ask, "You think I'm playing you as well?"

"Once a liar, always a liar."

"You offend me."

"You'll get over it," I quipped. A mischievous smile spread across both of our faces at the same time, proving to me that Petyr and I were more alike than we cared to admit. It was even more apparent when we heard heavy footsteps striding down the hall, and we turned our heads at the same time to see Ser Dale enter the main room.

"Lord Baelish. Alayne. Everyone at the dinner party is waiting for you two. Lady Baelish sent me to look for you."

I still cringed at the mention of 'Lady Baelish,' for some reason it could never sit right with me. Petyr on the other hand, was disturbed by something else for he observed, "You mean you sent yourself. If Lysa truly wanted me she would have come looking for me by now."

Petyr took a few steps down the stairs, eyeing the young knight with careful deliberation. "You take a particular interest in my daughter. That is why you volunteered yourself to coming looking for us. Such devotion, does show the depths of your feelings for Alayne, but I'm starting to wonder if there is more to that…"

_What does he mean by that?_

"I assure you my intentions are purely honourable."

"Is it?" Petyr asked, as he took another step further until he was eye level with Ser Dale. "Because that's not what I've been hearing. We are not at King's Landing anymore, Braes. The walls are thin here and the drafts can carry voices if you're not careful. Whatever the two of you are playing at- I will find out."

"You are mistaken, my Lord."

"You are very keen to seek her out, are you not? I have heard you spend more time with  _her_  than with my men. And you say your intentions are pure…"

"They are!" Sir Dale interrupted.

"And yet, you continue to seek her out even when I made myself quite clear that I wanted you to have nothing to do with my daughter."

"I have already heard your answer, Lord Baelish. I have yet to hear  _her's_."

"Then let's settle this once and for all. Alayne!" He called out and motioned me to come forward. Once I was at his side, Petyr said, "Give him an answer."

_But what was I to say? Petyr told me to lead him on, and now he's asking me to give Ser Dale a straight answer._ I looked into the Knight's genteel face and saw a wave of emotion flood over his features. I turned to Petyr and saw an inscrutable expression, but his eyes were discerning enough for me to read: they were dark and sinister-like as they burrowed into mine. I sighed as I looked away, and in barely a breath I uttered, "Ser Dale-"

"Just Dale," he interjected.

I suddenly felt a stray finger rub along the back of my hand, as if Petyr was encouraging me on.  _Some lies are love,_  I remember he said to me only a few minutes ago. He stealthily interlaced our fingers together, before he gave it a tender squeeze.

"Alayne?" Ser Dale moaned out of pure misery. "Just tell me once and for all, is there any hope for us?"

A lie came to me suddenly, but it seemed so right I blurted it out at once. "I need more time to consider the matter. You would not have me choose between a father and a lover, would you?"

"No, I would not."

"Then let me have time to think about it. I will give you an answer when I'm ready."

"There's your answer, Braes!" Petyr gibed. "Now, tell my wife that I will be there shortly. I have a few more words to say to my daughter-  _alone._ "

Ser Dale swiftly turned around and went back from whence he came. Petyr watched the last of his shadow disappear before he pulled me in and kissed me fiercely. He steered me toward the wall and pinned my body against it, it was there that he covered my kiss-swollen lips with dangerously passionate kisses.

"Oh, Petyr," I breathed, as I wrapped my legs around his frame once he lifted me up into the air. Petyr grunted as his clothed member brushed against mine, even after our recent experiences in the cave he still hadn't had his fill of me.

Common sense must have taken over, for he suddenly leveled me to the ground and took a step back. He quickly looked around the main room, afraid that we might have been caught red-handed. There was nothing in the shadows to alarm him, nor was there any sound of us being watched. Petyr turned around and looked at me with a satisfied smile before he whispered, "You did well."

"No thanks to you."

"Well, you did learn from the best." He took a step towards me and kissed me gently, it was fleeting but sincere.

I licked my lips, wishing it could last a second longer. "Why do I feel like the last thread of my morality is gone?"

"My sweet Sansa, that happened when you fucked me not once, not twice…" he paused, and kissed my kiss-swollen lips fervently again. "But three times."

"Please, don't remind me. I still feel it," I said wearily. I slipped past him, while he was still chuckling low to himself and quickly made my way downstairs. If we delayed any longer Lysa would most certainly come looking for us. I would have to spend the next month with her in a small carriage come tomorrow morning, so it would be wise to not anger her further. Petyr seemed to sense my thoughts for he returned to my side once more and rested his hand at the bottom of my spine. The hallway to the dining room was dark, something we both seemed to relish as our lips connected once more. It was a pity that this would be our last time alone together. By tomorrow morning we will be out on the dirt roads, heading towards the Vale, all the while pretending we were father and daughter, and not what we truly were, insatiable lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petyr lied. He wasn't being entirely honest with Sansa. He's hiding something- something big! And unfortunately for Petyr it's a huge wrench in his plans.
> 
> What is this "wrench" in his plans you ask? Well, I can't tell you… author's privileges. But what I can tell you is that the past three chapters has been hinting at this inevitable event, and the direction Petyr is going to take since he discovered the truth… that "unfortunate incident" that has thrown his original plans to take the Iron Throne out the window (Figuratively speaking, of course. Petyr would never write his plans down on paper).  
> So, what is the ill-fated event that has been looming over Petyr and Sansa's head for a while now? The thing that Petyr dreads, but is also ever hopeful for? That wrench that throws his plans for a loop? Well… I guess you'll just have to wait and see.
> 
> Enjoy the climb,
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish


	15. Never Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

"Oh, Petyr!" I screamed, as Petyr shoved his cock into me. There was no foreplay, no teasing, it was all or nothing. Petyr was grinding me hard against the gravel path, even the blanket I brought with me couldn't protect me from the harshness of the ground.

"Fuck it!" Petyr growled, as he drove into me further. I was nearly teary eyed from the pressure, it was only a matter of time until I explode.

"I can't!" I wheezed, before I suddenly rolled him over and found myself on top of him.

"Sansa?" Petyr asked in surprised, as he looked into my hungry eyes.

"Shut up, Petyr!" I shot back, before I began to ride him. "I'm going to show you how you do it properly."

"Oh, is that so?" he laughed, barely containing his mirth. His smile quickly went away, once I put him on a high. "Seven Hells!" he cried out, as I sunk myself deeper. It barely escaped his lips before he buried his face into mine and kissed me feverishly. I was one step ahead of him, I drove my tongue into his mouth and smacked his down triumphantly. Petyr jerked his head back in surprise, accidently smacking it against the cold hard ground. "What the hell?"

"What's wrong, Petyr?" I asked, as I forced myself deeper into him. "Your surprised the master is finally beaten by their apprentice?"

Petyr's mouth gaped open, for once he was speechless. I leaned in and bit down on his right shoulder possesively, leaving a bright red mark in his wake. While Petyr was still yelping from the pain I moaned, "Oh, Petyr…. you have no idea what I want to do to you next."

"Sansa?" said a voice off in the distance. My eyelids blinked in confusement, hardly believing what I was hearing off in the distance.

"Sansa?" the voice said again, but this time I recognized the speaker's voice-  _Lysa._  I blinked again, and this time my surroundings were entirely different.

"I was wondering if you're okay? You kept- biting down on your lips. I was getting concerned," my Aunt mused. She laid her hand on top of mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're not feeling sick again, are you?"

"No," I said weakly. I raised my free hand up to my lips and felt the deep gash on my bottom lip.

"Just let me know and I'll have them stop the carriage again," Aunt Lysa said soothingly.

"Will never get anywhere if we do," I admitted. It was not a daily occurrence for me to puke at the side of the road. The swaying motion of the carriage traveling up the rocky mountains often made me sick to my stomach. Eventually, we would have to stop so I could relieve whatever was left in my stomach.

"I shall ask Petyr to give you a container to throw up in for next time."

I blushed as she mentioned her husband's name and quickly looked away.  _If only she knew what I was just fantasizing about,_  I thought, and bit down on my swollen lip again.

"You're not thinking about Ser Dale again, are you?" My aunt asked as she leaned into my frame further.

"What? No!" I blurted out, surprised that she would even ask me that.

"It's just that… you keep biting your lips, and Ser Dale is riding just outside your window. You might be able to fool Petyr, but you can't fool me. A mother knows… they always know."

"It isn't like that."

"No? Why else would you continue to keep the poor man waiting? It's been over a month and you still haven't given him a clear answer."

"It's not as simple as you think," I interjected.

"Yes or no, Sansa. That's all you need to say."

Of course, she would over simplify things. If only she knew how hard it was to appease both Petyr and Ser Dale at the same time. It was like juggling while trying to swim- next to impossible. Once, when Petyr and I were alone for a fleeting moment I had asked him why I had to keep Ser Dale in the dark. He simply raised his eyebrows with amusement and replied, "Sometimes one person's loyalty can be worth a thousand men."

As I looked out the window, admiring the tall, handsome stature of Ser Dale upon his snow-white horse I could only assume that Petyr offered me half the truth. Ser Dale caught my earnest gaze and steered his horse closer to my carriage. He motioned me to pull down my glass window before he edged his horse closer.

"Good evening, Alayne," he said in a cheery voice.

"Dale," I replied in a civil tone, it was distant and cold, but it hardly seemed to bother the young knight.

"A few more miles and we are expecting to camp for the night."

"Oh," I replied, feeling to tired to think of anything else to say.

"I was thinking… once we stop…"

He was hesitating, it was never a good sign. I felt less inclined to encourage him on.

"I know you haven't been feeling well lately. I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me. Just like old times."

"I don't know-"

"We haven't spoken in a while. It feels like ages since we've had time to talk. I've been thinking… if you spend more time with me I might be able to change your mind."

"Dale, please-"

"I'm not rushing you," he interrupted. "You can take as long as you want. Life is mediocre, love shouldn't be."

"Yes, well-"  _Gods, why can't I think of anything to say. This would be so much easier if he wasn't such a good man._

"I have my own plot of land, you know. Its a small, humble place up north. Once the war is over we can go there. I think you would like it… it's quiet and peaceful."

I felt Lysa's elbow nudge my outer arm, it was evident she was chiding me to give him an answer.  _I've been dragging this out for far too long._

"And it snows there. You told me once that you missed the snow. Well, there's lots of it!"

I laughed at him, liking that noble lustre in his eyes.

"I could make you happy, Alayne," he said in a low voice, his features softened as he said it.

A loud, fearful cry came from the other side of the carriage, which startled us both. Ser Dale immediately drew out his sword and shouted, "Pull up your window!"

"Hold your ground!" Ser Dale called out to the men around him. "Protect the Lady of the Vale!"

A handful of men poured out of the forest and ran across the dirt road to attack our men. Others were high up in the trees shooting quivers into the hearts of men. Ser Dale pulled up his helmet before he rode towards the tribe of bandits. He was a skilled swordsman- no match for the frail looking young men. Still, the bandits were poor and starving, they had nothing to lose so they fought bravely against the young, gallant knight.

"Where is Petyr?" Lysa shrilled out beside me, holding her fur blanket with terror.

"He'll be fine," I assured her, though his absence made me uneasy. The death cries around our closed carriage did little to ease our nerves. We heard the sharp whines of horses before they tumbled to the ground, and the low groans of men who were slowly dying from a fatal wound.

"Come on! Fight!" Ser Dale bellowed furiously, as he struck down another opponent. "Protect the Lady of the Vale!"

His men around him fought feebly, it concerned them little whether the Lady lived or died. It was there own skin they cared about, which is why half of them abandoned their post and fled for the woods.

"Cowards!" Ser Dale roared to the swarm of men that left his side. A fatal arrow stuck his horse, and soon the pair of them toppled over to the ground.

"Dale!" I screamed. A swarm of men began to circle around his lonesome figure, their blood thirsty swords glimmered in the last of the light.

Ser Dale grunted as he rose himself off the ground. He was a head taller than all of them- still he was outnumbered seven to one.

He lifted his silver-sheened blade in the air defiantly, and closed his eyes for a moment before he struck the man closest to him. His nimble feet danced around the dirt road, while his long blade slashed at his enemies with lightening speed. His skyey cloak fluttered in the wind as this errant knight struck down the men one by one. His movements were swift and vigil, it was no match for them.

"Well, well," said a raspy voice in front of me, a bandit had walked up to the window with a menacing grin. "Aren't you a pretty thing."

I moved away from the window, squishing Lysa as I moved as far back as possible.

"Is it locked?" Lysa asked me.

I nodded my head at her, too fearful to speak. The haggard looking man wielded his dagger and used the hilt of the blade to strike at the window. It didn't budge, a nervous laugh escaped me. The man tried again and again, and soon it made the crystal-clear glass craze into a thousand lines.

"He's going to break in," Aunt Lysa breathed.

"No, he won't," I assured her, even though my voice sounded weak as I uttered it.

"Alayne!" Ser Dale's voice cried out, it was faint and full of pain.

"Dale!" I screamed, as I moved towards the window to see him. Almost all the men around him were struck down, only two strong looking men remained. Ser Dale was limping, it was clear his outer leg had been struck, blood was pouring down his leg. He gave out a battle cry before he dove at the men with his vermillion stained blade. The men were fierce fighters and were quick to strike him down, but Ser Dale was even quicker to get back up. He swiveled the blade around his fingers before he slashed to the right and struck a man's arm; he swiftly turned to the left and stabbed the other man in his chest. The man tumbled to the floor bringing Ser Dale's sword with it- he was unarmed for a single moment. His hands were bare as he reached for his dagger, but it was too late, a sword pierced him from behind and Ser Dale crumbled to the floor face first.

"Dale!" I screamed and hit the marred glass fiercely. The world seemed to dimmer, it blurred until the only thing I could see was Ser Dale's hand lifting up into the air- reaching for me one last time. "Dale," I whimpered as his hand grew limp and crashed onto the floor. "No, no, no."

My Aunt Lysa enraptured me in a loving embrace. I felt lifeless in her arms, hardly aware of what was going on around me. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, after the crashing against the window continued.

"Dale," I breathed, feeling like the last good thing in the world was gone.

"I'm so sorry, love," she whispered into my ear.

There was a cry in front of me, probably another one of our men gone. It was too late- the battle had been lost. "They'll kill us," I moaned, as I stared into the menacing eyes of that haggard creature. "They'll rape us."

"Then we should make this quick," Aunt Lysa said as she unsheathed a dagger at her hip. "There are worse ways to die."

"I just wish…" I cut myself off and looked down at my trembling hands, unwilling to utter thought that came across my mind.  _I wish I could see Petyr for one last time._

The window broke into a thousand pieces. A bony hand slithered through the gaping hole in searching for the lock. I snatched Lysa's dagger from her hand and was about to kill him when a ringed hand wrapped around the man's throat and pulled him away. A valyrian dagger struck him in his chest. The man cried out in pain and Petyr withdrew it to strike him in the center of the chest again, blood squirting out all around us. Petyr dropped the dead man to the ground and stomped on his throat for extra measure. He suddenly looked up at me, a strange madness was seen in his grey-green eyes.

"Petyr!" Aunt Lysa wailed. He looked at her for a moment, it looked almost unworldly, as if he hardly recognized her at all.

"Look out!" I shouted, as a harrowing figure approached him from behind. Petyr moved away holding his frosty blue dagger in front of him. He was no match for this giant that stood before him now. The man jeered at him before he withdrew two swords from his sides.

"Seven Hells," Petyr grumbled, as the man's swords glittered in the last of the sunlight. In a matter of seconds, they flickered towards him, Petyr quickly ducked and then dogged out of the way.

"He needs help," I muttered under my breath.

"You stay right here," my Aunt scolded me.

"But he's going to die!"

"There is nothing we can do."

 _It's a sin to kill a mockingbird_ , a voice said at the back of my mind. I fingered the silver pin that adorned my furred collar. I knew I had to do something-  _anything_  to save him. I clutched the dagger hard before I bolted out the door.

"Sansa!" Petyr said angrily as I ran toward them. "Get back inside!"

"No," I said defiantly. "I'm not going to lose you too."

"Sansa, please," Petyr voice quavered from the flurry of emotions that came over him. The giant struck at him, but Petyr leapt backwards and hid behind a large boulder.

"I shall enjoy killing you," mocked the giant. He threw his swords down and rolled up his sleeves. "I want to do it with my bare hands."

"Oh, is it more fun that way?" Petyr asked, as he stealthily moved around the boulder.

"Yes."

"Listen to me, I'm a rich man. If you let me live I'll give more golden dragons than you could ever dream of... I could even give you a castle if you like… and whores. Everyone loves whores!"

The man laughed at him as he circled around the boulder. "You're a funny man."

"Funny? No, I wouldn't say that. I'm wittier, than anything else."

"I'll kill you all the same."

"Now, now. Let's rethink this," Petyr said as he drew out his dagger in front of him. "I am much more valuable to you alive than dead."

I suddenly picked up the giant's sword and pierced him in the center of his back, just as the bandits had done to Ser Dale. The man swivelled around to face me, clearly, I had not done enough damage to him, for he picked me off the ground and gave me a lecherous stare. I tried to swipe at him with Lysa's dagger, but it was no use, it simply grazed his bare arms.

"I thought I told you," Petyr piped up, as he struck the back of the giant's knees with his valyrian blade. "To stay inside," he added, as he stabbed the man in the shoulder blade and back.

The man released his grip and the both of us tumbled to the ground. Petyr rolled the man over and gibed, "You should have taken my offer," before he sliced the man's throat to the bone. "By the light of the fucking seven, Sansa!" he shouted, as he grabbed a hold of my arm. "Do you know how much you risked trying to save me?"

"I couldn't-" I stammered out, it felt like something was caught in my throat. "I couldn't lose you too, Petyr."

Petyr huffed at me with frustration, before he wrapped his arms around me. His blood-stained hands anxiously caressed my frame. After he heard me whimper, Petyr pulled me into his frame and held me so tightly I feared he would never let me go. An idle tear fell down my cheek, as I contemplated just how close I was to loosing him. "You promised me, Petyr. You said you would never leave me."

"And I won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he said softly. He moved his head back, so he could kiss me on my brow. "I'll never leave you, Sansa, not ever."

* * *

I was sitting next to a riverbank under the twilight sky. There was not a gale in the wind, all was silent and reposed around me. I was not- a tumultuous wave rose inside of me as I wrung my hands anxiously under the pale moonlight. I could still feel the blood on my hands even though they were as white as snow. I splashed them in the water again, hoping the cold water would wash away my sins. What is the use if I can still feel it, rather than see the men's blood staining the thin brown lines etched into the palms of my hand.

Was it shame that was keeping me up tonight? Or was it guilt? Or remorse for the things I've done to Ser Dale? But, was it wrong to lead him on? Should I have not listened to Petyr's instructions? Was it a mistake to follow him blindly?  _Love is blind,_  isn't that what they say. Petyr had done his fair share of blinding me to the light, to the truth- whatever that was.  _But, I still love him._ I could not deny that fact, as much as I tried. My stomach tightened with pain, a queasy feeling came over me and soon I was hurling up the last of my dinner into the bushes.

"I wish I could say I'm surprised," a low tenor said behind me. "But I'm not."

"Petyr?" I wheezed, after I wiped at my mouth in burning shame.

"Here," he said, and offered me a cloth from his cloak to wipe away the last of the filth. "Take this as well," He offered, as he handed me a sack of wine.

"Thanks," I replied meekly, and took a long swig.

"Not too much," he chided, and snatched it away from me.

"I'm not a child!"

"I know that."

"Then why are you treating me like one?"

Petyr sat down on the damp grass and began to chuckle low, it was barely audible to anyone but me. "I am finding you strangely amusing as of late."

"Is that so?"

"It is," he said in a low tone. He dug his hands inside of his pocket before he handed me rose a gold plight-ring.

"What is this?"

"It's yours."

"Petyr," I warned. I was not in the mood for his little games.

"It is a gift."

"Your giving me a ring because…"

"I am not giving it to you. Ser Dale gave it to you about a month ago when you accepted his proposal. You have been deceiving me for a month, much to my dismay. You feared I would get rid of him if I ever found out the truth, and you couldn't let that happen- not when your pregnant."

"What?" I exclaimed and dropped the engagement ring in the sand. "What do you mean I'm pregnant?"

"I've had my suspicions for a while. But when I look at you now… I'm sure of it."

"What!" I stuttered. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"You don't see it, do you? Not how I see it. The signs I mean. First, there was your chronic headaches, tiredness, short temper… and then there was the swelling of your breasts I noticed the morning Lysa arrived. It was the little things, my dear, the tiny details that only a man like me would notice. And now your throwing up practically everyday… a thing I greatly feared, but fortunately for me Lysa was just as eager to leave The Fingers as I was. You see, if we stayed the truth would have been found out, and I was not entirely sure what I could do to cover the truth. But the Vale! An enormous castle like that is an easy place to hide  _our_  little secret."

"So, you knew this all along?"

"Oh, yes! Why do you think I encouraged Ser Dale's attention to you?"

"I thought you were mad," I teased. I shook my head in disbelief and mumbled, "I thought you knew what you were doing."

"I was," he assented. He picked up the phlight-ring and placed it into the palm of my hand. "Dale Braes is the father of your child. He has been for the past month and a half. Is that understood?"

"But we never-"

"I encouraged him to take long walks with you, because I needed to make sure the two of you spent some time alone together. Our experiences in the cave prove that some things can happen in broad daylight without anyone else knowing."

"Oh," was the only thing that escaped my mouth. I rubbed my hand over my stomach as I tried to take in everything Petyr was saying. "So, I really am pregnant?"

"Yes, my sweet."

"With  _your_  child?"

"With  _my_  child," he drawled, and I knew his eyes were darkening even though I could barely see it. I felt his ringed hand rest on top of mine, as we both felt my flat stomach.

"It's hard to believe there is something growing inside of me," I breathed, as I felt the warmth of his hand spread all over mine. "Is that why you kissed me like that- that day in the cave."

"Like this?" he asked, as he stooped forward to lift up the folds of my dress and kiss my bare stomach again and again.

"Petyr, stop," I said in an unsteady voice, as his warmth trailed around the center of my body. "Otherwise, you know what will happen next."

"Hmmmm," he mumbled, and continued his attentions. I pressed my hands to the sides of his temples and pushed him away.

"I mean it," I said in a stern voice. "I can't do this right now."

"I know," he whispered, as he moved himself back. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

"Yes, here's one. Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Well, my time is running out," he teased, as laid his hand on my woolen dress where he just decorated my stomach with kisses.

"When?"

"Sometime before I send Ser Dale away. It is a great evil that he died today, but it can't be helped. I was hoping to keep him around a little bit longer, so the lords and ladies of the Vale could notice his attention to you. It would have made it easier…" he paused and stroked his cleanly shaven chin. "… to spread a rumour when someone is still alive and well, but perhaps this will play to our favour."

"Petyr! He sacrificed himself for me today. I wouldn't be alive right now, if it wasn't for him."

"Have I not told you? One man's loyalty can be worth a thousand men."

"Please, don't tell me you are responsible for the attack today."

"I am not that heartless. No, they attacked us on their own accord. I did warn Lord Royce that taking the King's Road would be dangerous, but he  _never_ listens to me. After my little talk with Lysa this evening, perhaps he will."

"Your going to get rid of him, aren't you?"

"No. He's more valuable to me alive than dead."

I sighed and looked down at the golden rings that adorned his hands. I was rubbing them gently when I asked, "Did you get me pregnant on purpose?"

"No. It was purely by accident," he mused. "But it was a happy accident."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"I am," he breathed, and kissed me on my brow. "I am happy, Sansa. Do you believe me?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, and looked away from him. Petyr's fingers trailed along my jawline, feeling the sharp ridges before he tilted my head in his direction. Slowly he inched his face forward and held it there for what felt like ages before he kissed me slowly. It deepened over time, proving to me that he meant what he said. His hands cupped the side of my cheeks as he pulled me into him further, as if he feared I would let go. Petyr was a fool, I would never leave him, not now- not ever.


	16. In Our Own Hubris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insp.
> 
> Hubris- Excessive pride or self-confidence. In Greek tragedy it is excessive pride toward or defiance of the gods; their overconfidence led the hero to attempt to overstep the boundaries of human limitations and assume a godlike status, and the gods inevitably humbled the offender with a sharp reminder of his or her morality.
> 
> "We can never be gods, after all- but we can become something less human with frightening ease."
> 
> N.K. Jemisin, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

"A golden dragon for your thoughts," Petyr murmured, as he rung his fingers through his feather pen. He let his handsome head rest at the back of his chair while looking up at me. He was dressed in a deep mauve doublet with a smoky grey collar that brought out the greyness in his eyes. My lover looked at ease on this peaceful afternoon, the lids of his eyes closed ever so slightly as he drank me in.

"Just a dragon?" I asked, as I tilted my head in his direction. My head was pillowed upon heaps of fur, while I languidly reposed myself across his velvet couch. A book lay idly in my hand, and I put it down at once Petyr addressed me. The blue bounded book was an interesting read, rather erotic and libidinous for most readers but I was familiar with such wordily things now. It was just the kind of thing a whoremonger would own, and I was savoring every minute of it till Petyr would undoubtedly snatch it away from me.

"Just a dragon," he answered in a lazy tone. "You're not getting greedy now, are you?"

"No, that's your area," I teased, while I stroked my fingers through my long raven tresses.

"I would think that's more of a Lannister trait," he mused. He leaned over the desk and waved a scrolled piece of paper in his hand. "Here is evidence, if you'd like to see it?"

"Hmmm," I murmured, while I waved my hand away with disinterest. "Another letter from Cersei?"

"She still can't find her little brother, poor thing." He let the scroll of paper slip away from his fingers and float towards the floor. "King's Landing is in chaos of course. I planted a few seeds before I left, but I never imagined it would grow quite like this."

"The Sparrows are still causing trouble?"

"They practically own the Seven Kingdoms now."

"And she took the bait?"

"Which one?" he asked, while trying to suppress a laugh. "The one where I assured her the sparrows are perfectly harmless? Or the one where I told her I have no idea where Tyrion Lannister may be hiding?"

"So, you do know?"

"I have an inclination," he replied, as he leaned back in his seat. "It is rather odd that Tyrion and the Spider should disappear on the same night-"

"You think he helped him?" I interrupted.

"I  _know_  he helped him. Varys is no more loyal to the Lannisters than I am, if he had an opportunity to throw them to their knees he would."

"But why?"

"Because a man without a cock does curious things," he teased. His eyebrows raised at me with an open invitation before he continued, "If you know a man's motive than you know what he wants. Varys has served three Kings in his lifetime, do you really think he was loyal to either one of them?"

"No."

Petyr nodded his head in approval, before he continued, "He has always admired Tyrion's talents. I'm sure a dwarf and a cockless man would make an admirable pair, but I much prefer the one I'm looking at."

I twirled my hair around my finger, while I gazed at him lustfully.  _Let him come here, if he truly wants me,_ I thought, as I stretched myself out on the couch in a teasing manner.

Petyr's right hand crept underneath the table, it was obvious he was trying to assuage his need. No matter how much we both wanted it, we knew his wife was resting in a room just across from ours.

"Do you know where they're hiding?" I asked in a vain attempt to distract Petyr from his understandable discomfort.

"No," he groaned, as he shifted in his seat. "But I imagine it isn't anywhere near the Seven Kingdoms. The Lannisters' have too many allies, if they choose to stay here. They must be in Braavos or somewhere far enough from the Lannisters' reach."

"But what does Varys gain by helping him? I don't understand…"

"… his motives," Petyr said, clearly amused that he could now finish my sentences for me. "Tyrion is a Lannister, and that means he knows the weakness of his House and the potential moves that Cersei and Jamie will make. He could act as a spy-"

"But Tyrion would never betray his family!"

"No?" Petyr asked. "You forget his father put him on a public trial and intended to execute him in the King's Court, if it had not been for his untimely death."

"Please, tell me you didn't have…"

"… a part to play in his death?" Petyr interrupted again. "No, sweetling, that was not me this time."

"This time," I mocked, as I rose up from the couch and walked over to his desk. "You really are the master of chaos."

"Hmmm," Petyr murmured. His eyes lit up as I slowly approached his desk, enjoying every second that I stood in his view.

"Thomas said my pregnancy is going well," I said shyly, letting my eyes fall down to his desk where a map of the Seven Kingdoms was placed in front of him.

"He told me as well," Petyr said quietly.

"I don't know how much longer I can hide it though," I mused, as I stroked my fingers across the bottom of my stomach.

"I'll have Eileen send you more clothes, if you need it. I still think it's nicely concealed-"

"Yes, but for how much longer?"

"You're not worrying about it, are you?" Petyr asked with faint amusement. He pushed his chair back, and softly patted his firm lap in an open invitation.

"Yes… no. I don't know."

"Sit, Sansa," Petyr instructed in a fatherly tone. "Listen to me, in a month or two we will all leave this place and go down to the bottom of the Vale where we will spend the winter there. It is Lysa's intention that we stay the whole of it, but we both know we can't do that. I know you won't be due in another seven months, but I can't let Lysa see you get any bigger than you already are."

Petyr's hand roamed across my stomach, while he kissed the back of my neck sweetly. I interlaced our fingers together, and together we felt the swell of my stomach in a companionable silence. Petyr let his chin rest on my shoulder and brushed the sides of his temple to mine. "I love you," he breathed, his voice had a warmth to it that was full of feeling.

"And I you," I whispered, and tilted my head so I could kiss him.

"I'm taking you away with me," he breathed, once our lips broke apart.

"Where?"

"Harrenhall, I think. Though, I know you would much prefer The Fingers."

"I could see the Freyes again?" I exclaimed, letting a smile spread across my face.

"It is a dangerous journey, Sansa. You forget what happened the last time we traveled on the King's Road."

"Dale," I said meekly.

"That is why I think Harrenhall is better. Maybe even Riverrun, as long as the Tully's still hold the breach. But I fear the Lannisters and the Freys are getting greedy, and they won't let the Tully's slip away so easily."

"So, your taking me to a haunted castle?"

"I thought you liked such places?" he teased and kissed the side of my cheek.

"Only in songs."

"Oh, so you believe in songs now?"

"Only when I look at you," I replied, and turned around to kiss him fervently.

"Sansa," Petyr breathed, as he suddenly pulled his face away. "I wish I could take you to Winterfell, you know that, don't you?"

"Well, you did promise me-"

"Yes, I remember that," he interrupted me in a drawl tone. "Circumstances, however-"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Petyr. I understand."

Petyr leaned his head back while I stroked my hand through his tousled curls. The lids of his eyes closed slightly as he muttered, "If only  _time_  wasn't our enemy."

"What do you mean?" I asked, letting my fingers trail along the silver strays of hair that ran along his temples.

"It has been sometime since Stannis Baratheon and his army left Dragonstone. Last I heard from my spies, he is on his way to the Wall. He intends to ask the leader of the Night's Watch for help."

"But they're not allowed to get involved in the wars!" I interjected.

"In the past, that was the case. But things have changed since then." Petyr paused, and let his eyes study me for a moment. "Sansa, what do you know about the Night's Watch?"

"That they are there to protect the wall from Wildlings and…" I hesitated. "White walkers, but those things don't exist. They're just silly stories that my Nan would tell."

"Is that what you truly believe?" He asked me with a leveled gaze.

"Yes," I said in a small voice, and quickly looked away from his knowing gaze.

"Do you know anything else about the wall?" he inquired, as he stroked the side of my arm.

"Only that Jon is there?"

"Jon Snow?"

"Yes."

"Then you mean to say, Lord Commander Jon Snow."

"What?" I laughed with a bewildered expression.

"You seem to be surrounded by powerful friends, my sweet."

I smiled at him, but it quickly fell when I finally did think about my long-lost brother. "I treated him terribly," I confessed, and lowered my head in shame.

Petyr lifted my chin with his finger and replied, "Then the next time you see him the two of you should make amends."

"He's at the Wall," I grumbled. "How will I ever see him?"

"I'm a gambling man, Sansa. I think your Jon Snow will want to help Stannis Baratheon. If he is anything like his father, then he will do anything he can to get the Wildings to fight in this war. And if they do, then they will be a force to reckon with… not even the Boltons can defeat such an army."

"And if they are defeated than we can get Winterfell!"

"If everything falls to our favour than yes, Winterfell will be yours. Stannis was always fond of your father, so he will not object to you taking your rightful place as  _Wardeness of the North._ " Petyr's eyes glimmered as he uttered it, and they brighten even more when he added, "Especially when he finds out that you are married to the Lord and Protector of the Vale, the most powerful man in all of the Western Kingdom."

My cheeks flushed a bright crimson red. "Married?" I stammered out, keenly aware of the way Petyr was looking at me. "But- but?"

"I do love when you look all flustered," he drawled, as he inched his face closer to mine. He grabbed a hold of my arms and smothered my face with kisses. Pressing his lips against mine fiercely, letting his tongue lather the inside of my mouth. I could feel his hands rover downwards, piercing the sides of my hips before he ever so slowly lifted me up on his desk.  _He wanted me,_  I could feel it with every sultry touch on my bare skin. He was moaning into my mouth, wrestling his hands through my thicken curls.

"Petyr," I warned, once I felt his hot body pressed against mine. He was losing control, I realized, and that alarmed me most of all. He was out of his seat now, pressing his chest against mine as he slowly glided me atop the table. I sprawled out across his solar table willingly, letting him inch my dress up little by little.

"Did you lock the door?" I asked in a sultry voice.

"See… this is why I love you," he said in an equally husky voice, while his hands glided my dress up further. He stopped when it was just above my knees and lifted the dress to take a peak. "That was rather quick wasn't it," he observed, as he saw the wetness pooling around my small clothing. "I wonder what it will be like by the time I get back."

Petyr smiled at me coyly, before he turned around and made his way to the solar door. I took the opportunity to slip away and close our open window just in case something heard our muffled moans and screams. As I pulled down the last of the glass window, I saw Petyr's reflection behind me, his prurient expression presaged the things to come. His hands cupped the side of my waist, stroking it firmly with his uncommonly warm hands. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, as his hands dipped down lower and lower. Petyr was silent, though he answered my question wordlessly when he began to pull up my floor length dress. "What if Lysa hears? You know she won't be gone long?"

Petyr continued to pull up my dress until it was bunched up around my waist. Only then did he turn me around and in a husky voice said, "I just want a taste." His strong hands lifted me atop the windowsill, a smile tugged around the corner of his lips as he looked at me.

"What is it?" I asked worriedly, noticing his smile was quickly spreading.

"This is true power," he mused, and tilted his head softly to the side as he gazed at the window. "Watching me being able to fuck you."

"There's a couch right over there, you know?" I said sassily, while I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck.

"Where's the fun in that?" He asked. He leaned into kiss me lightly, a tease to leave me wanting more. It would not do for either of us, however, for he suddenly brushed himself against me and kissed me harder than ever before. I was pressed up against the cold window, but his warm hands quickly snaked around my figure.

"Petyr," I moaned, as the aching around my center throbbed tremendously. My hands slithered down his chest and wrestled with the insufferable waistband, that insuperable barrier that stood in the way of what I truly wanted. In vain I struggled with the tighten band, much to Petyr's amusement, so I paid him back in kind and shoved my hands down his pants. He gasped and leaped back, pulling me down with him.

"Are you really that impatient?" He taunted, before he reluctantly pulled down his pants and stepped out of them with ease.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?"

"Months," he answered, as he made his way towards me with a determined gait. His hands wrestled me around my hips before he heaved me up against the windowsill again.

"Petyr," I groaned, as the cold artic air could be felt at my back. "The couch… the desk… the floor," I moaned while he creased the folds of my dress when he hoisted it up the second time. "Anywhere but here."

"Oh, Sansa. If you could only see what  _I_  see," he said with a strange glimmer in his eyes. "From this eminence I could see all of the Eyrie… every last hill and valley belongs to me. For so long I have been climbing my way to the top and now I see my rewards, all of it staring back at me- you, my love, and this breathtaking view, so please let me have this one gift from you."

I leaned in and kissed his soft lips tenderly, feeling it form into mine the longer I stayed. His hands rovered around the back of my head, tangling itself in my curly tresses. I could hear him breathe against me, a sigh escaped his lips as we parted but for a moment. He opened his mouth wide this time, letting his lips form over my own imperiously. He wished to dominate me with his kisses, but those days were done now. I was his equal, his likeness, and with one swift movement I pulled my head backwards, so we could part for a moment before I noxiously drove my tongue into his sphere. He moved backwards, and I fell in with him, until we both crashed into the ground. Petyr rolled over until he was on top of me and was instantly gratified when he heard me groan with frustration. His hands shoved my dress up the third time, and when I asked him why he didn't take it off completely he gave me a menacing grin. "A necessary precaution," he drawled, while his nibble fingers worked his way up my legs. His demeanor changed once I pushed him off me, and while he was still caught off guard I crawled over his figure and endued him with sin-like kisses. I ruffled his hair between my fingers till it stood on his ends, while he made sure my dress wasn't in the way for the inevitable.

"I've never seen you like this before," he said in a raspy voice, once I straddled him. "But I like it."

"Oh," I purred, as I brusquely eased myself into him. Petyr hissed as he felt the sheer weight of it all upon is harden cock. In a blink of an eye he rolled me over, and in an outlandish manner forced his way into me. I groaned as the sensation hit me, like a gigantic wave crashing against the shore. My head cranked up as I made a low moaning sound through clenched teeth, feeling my entire body constrict from the sensation he put me through. I could hardly breathe, it left my mouth before I could take another one. Petyr was relentless, like a man starved to death, did he work his way into me. His hands were the worst of all, feverishly caressing every piece of bare skin he could find until my skin was warm to the touch.

"Oh, Sansa," he murmured, as he slowed down a bit. His brow was dripping with sweat as he turned his head to look at me. "Why can't I resist you?" He asked through clenched teeth, while he tried to get our bodies into a certain motion.

Our bodies were swaying to a certain rhythm when I groaned, "I might ask you the same thing."

"If Lysa finds out," he said breathlessly; his fears quickly diminished once he began to suck the length of my long ivory neck.

"She won't," I assured him. I extended my neck to encourage him on his venture, hardly caring if he accidently left me a mark.

"When I marry you, I will do this to you everyday," he said in a dangerously low tone. His tongue lapped at me before he added, "Every night."

I took a hold of the sides of his face and tilted it in my direction. "Every hour of every day."

"We would have way too many children if we did that," he teased. He leaned his head forward to ravish me with kisses, while he eased himself in for one last time. Time was slipping away, and before we knew it the light was quickly retreating from our open window. It would soon be time for dinner, and then we would have to face Lysa's inquisitive stare.

"Petyr, I love you," I confessed, once he paused from his strenuous labour. "More than words could ever say."

"I know, my sweet," he admitted, the moment he rested his brow on mine. That moment felt so serene, as our bodies raised and fell at the same time. Everything was in sync: our breathing, the way our fingers intertwined together, the way the lighting illuminated both of our shapes, even our shadows made us look as one.  _I am his and he is mine,_  I thought, and nothing in the world could ever change that- I was sure of it now, more than ever.

* * *

I was half asleep when I heard a soft knock outside my chamber room. It was late, I should have been dressed for dinner by now, but I found I had not the strength to do so; Petyr had tired me out once he finally had his fill of me. Even now, as I layed in my bed with heaps of fur to shut out the cold, I could still feel the lingering sensation between my legs.

"Alayne?" Eileen asked, as she opened the door a crack. "May I come in?"

"Yes," I said weakily. I could hear my maid servant creep into the darkened room, it was probably why Petyr hired her. Apparently, she used to work in one of his brothels and he found her skills to be more useful outside the bedroom. He described her as quiet, shy sort of girl that was more of a mouse than a woman; a perfect spy was his term for her. Petyr was never fond of blackmailing people, but he had the tools to do so thanks to this small, quaint little girl who silently stood next to my bed.

"Are you unwell?" she asked timidly.

"I am tired."

"Should I send for Thomas again?"

"No, I'm fine," I assured her. It would not do for Petyr's private maester, Thomas, to visit my quarters again. Once was enough to rouse suspicion, but if I invited him into my chambers again than there would surely be gossip amongst the Lords and Ladies of the Eyrie.

"Would you like to get dressed for dinner now? It's running late-"

"I don't think I'm going tonight. Please, ask one of the kitchen staff to send it up here."

"But Lord Arryn would be greatly disappointed if you did not come," Eileen said sensibly. "He almost tried to sneak into your chamber room earlier, and he would have succeeded if Lord Baelish did not stop him."

"He is quite fond of me, isn't he?" I said sarcastically.

"Yes," Eileen replied, after she nodded her head in agreement. "I wouldn't be surprised if he comes running through the door right now."

"In that case, I should really get dressed." I threw away my covers and began to slide out from the bed, but the sensation between my legs only grew worse.  _Gosh, how deep did he go,_ I wondered, as I tightened my lips to suppress a groan. The slip of my dress flew up and Eileen saw the red bruising and nail marks running down my inner thigh. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, but she said nothing.

"Here, let me help you," she remarked, a small hand pressed against the center of my back as she eased me out of the bed. After I let out a small whimper from the pain, Eileen's hand left my spine as she turned to face me. "Perhaps, you should stay in bed. If you like, I can tell Lord Baelish that you are feeling unwell again."

"No, I should go. People will talk," I confessed.

"They will talk either way," she warned, and glanced at the marks running down my leg again.

"Alright, but you must tell my father for me. And please don't let Sweet Robin disturb me, I really do need some rest. The baby-"

"I know," Eileen interjected. "Its wearing you out."

"Yes," I said, as I felt the colour rising to my cheeks. I felt so happy whenever I thought of it; Petyr's child was slowly growing inside of me. I stroked the bottom of my stomach, relishing every precious second of it, and not even the fear of Lysa's wrath could take that away from me.

"I shall tell him now," Eileen muttered, as she made her way to the door. "I'll be back soon."

The door closed softly behind her, and I let out a sigh of relief. My body shifted backwards till my head rested upon the plush pillows that Petyr had given to me.  _He's always spoiling me,_  I thought, as I rubbed the rosy pink sheets beneath the tips of my fingers. The thought of him made me smile. I was happy, so very happy whenever I thought of him and our child, it was enough for me to stretch out across the bed and fall into a blissful sleep.

* * *

"I need her to be awake to examine her," said a deep voice beside my bed, it echoed against the walls of my room, thus, awakening me from a deep sleep.

"Can't you do it while she is like this?" a female's voice replied.

"No, my Lady. It is quite impossible."

"My husband is quite adamant that I leave the matter alone, but I can't. She is always so sick, and now I am beginning to wonder if my Sweet Robin will catch it as well."

"Exhaustion is not a sickness, my Lady."

"No, but the way she behaves I'm starting to wonder if it is. Can't you just look her over, and tell me what you think?"

"I would be violating-"

"I don't care what you will be violating! Just do it quickly!"

I felt hard calloused hands remove my blanket from my forearm, it slowly trailed down my slender form until my entire body was exposed to them. I had enough at this point, and sharply turned my head to face them.

"Alayne, my dear. I have brought one of my men to look at you. This is Gaius, a maester of mine. I have asked him to examine you and see if he could cheer you up a bit. You have been so low lately."

"I am simply tired, Aunt Lysa."

"That is what Petyr has said, but-"

"Then there is nothing to concern you," I said rather coldly.

Lysa did not like the way I pulled back the covers and looked at her defensively. How could I not when she was close enough to see the slight change in my form? I was thankful that my candle was out, and that my room was slightly dim from the pale moonlight peaking through my half-opened drapes. "Sleep is all I need. So, if you would be so kind-"

"Alayne!" Aunt Lysa suddenly blurted out with blind fury. "You will let this man examine you. I shall hear no more excuses from you or my  _husband._ "

She stalked over to the door and over her shoulder she shot out, "Gaius, tell me your findings as soon as you can. Alayne, you shall stay here till I send for you."

The minute the door was shut I heard Gaius softly say, "There is nothing to worry about, my dear. Let me look you over so I can tell Lady Lysa that there is nothing to worry about."

_There is everything to worry about,_  I thought, before I had the effrontery to pull the sheets over my entire body and roll my body away from him.

"Please, don't make this harder than this is," the maester said pleadingly. "I don't' want to do this as much as you, but we all have our orders to follow."

_Indeed, we do,_  I mused, as I remembered the first instruction Petyr gave me the minute we passed the Bloody Gate. "Never let anyone see you, not unless it is Eileen or Thomas. Those are the only two people I trust with our little secret." I did not know this man who stood at the side of my bed remorsefully, anyone who belonged to Lysa Arryn I could not trust, even if I wanted too.

"If you do not let me examine you than I will have to tell Lysa, and she will have me do it by force."

"Lord Baelish wouldn't allow it," I shot out gleefully.

"How can he stop me when he is not even here?"

That made me turn around to face him. "What do you mean he isn't here?"

"He is nowhere to be found around the castle. That is why Lysa has sent for me. Please, just let me look at you without a hoard of guards staring at your nakedness."

"Where in the hell is Petyr?" I cursed under my breath, the moment I slid out of my covers. I walked over to him, careful to avoid his eyes and somberly stood in front of him.

"I'll make this quick," he said, as he felt my brow for any signs of a fever and layed a hand against the side of my cheek. He was scanning over my form, poking here and there, but he froze once he noticed the small bump at the bottom of my stomach. "It can't be?"

"It is," I said gravely, and untied my silken robe to show him the truth.

"Your pregnant?" he exclaimed. "How long have you kept this a secret?"

I said nothing. It would not do to give everything away all at once, even when he looked at me with those soft sympathetic-like eyes.

"Who is the father?" he asked quietly. "Is it the same person who left you those marks down there."

A cunning smile played across my lips and in a voice, I hardly recognized I said, "I'm a bastard, don't you know? I get bored easily. Every now and then I need someone to warm my bed." My hands gently stroked the hem of his sleeve as I added, "I could warm yours as well, Gaius."

I could almost hear the sharp snapping of an iron trap inside my head when I saw the way Gaius looked at me.  _Tears aren't the only woman's weapon,_  I thought, as I remembered the fateful words Cersei Lannister said the night Stannis Baratheon's army stormed the shores of King's Landing.  _We have another one between our legs._

"I am twice your age, child," the maester said wearily.

"All the more reason I should warm your bed tonight," I said slyly.

The temptation was too much for Gaius to bear, already he was succumbing to his own desires. His hands arrested the sides of my arms as he steered me towards the bed.  _Oh, no! What have I done,_ I realized, as I fell into the bed with him on top of me. His heated breath was already covering my chest when the unlocking of a door saved me from the inevitable.  _Petyr,_  I thought, as I quickly raised my head, but it was the stern expression of Lysa that greeted me.

"What is this?" she asked, with an unyielding gaze.

"My Lady, I can explain-"

"You are dismissed, sir."

"She was seducing me, it was never my intention too-"

"You are dismissed!" Lysa repeated, but this time she held the door wide open for him to leave.

"Please, let me explain. Alayne, she's- she's pregnant-"

"What?"

"She is pregnant my Lady. I was merely taking a closer look."

"Do you think I am a fool, Gaius!"

"No. I would never think that of you."

"Good," she said sternly. "Now, prepare me some moon tea and bring it back as soon as possible. After that you are dismissed."

_Moon tea,_  I panicked,  _she can't make me drink that. I will not let her harm my child!_

"Sansa, come here," instructed my Aunt the moment she locked the door. She had me sit on a chair next to the window, and calmly lit a candle so she could see me fully. Her hawk-like eyes eyed my naked form; colour as bright as her auburn hair rose to her cheeks. Her dim blue eyes darkened the longer she took me in, and to my horror they narrowed as her eyes finally locked onto mine. "Who is it?"

"Dale," I said quietly.

"He's not the one who gave you those marks over there."

"No, that was someone else."

"It was Petyr… wasn't it."

"No."

"Lies!"

"I swear to you-"

"I don't believe a single word you say. Your just like your mother."

"I swear it's not Petyr. It's someone else."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you! You'll kill him."

"If it's Petyr I swear to you-"

"It isn't him, Aunt Lysa!" I wailed. Tears began to stream down my face reluctantly, it was the fear not of getting caught, but of loosing my child that made me so emotional. "Please, don't make me drink it!"

"Why not? I had a child once… with Petyr and they took that away from me. Now, I will take it away from you, just in case it is his."

"It isn't him. Ask him!" I pleaded. "You must believe me… I wouldn't- I couldn't do such a thing."

"No?" she said mockingly. "Did I not see my maester on top of you a moment ago."

"He forced himself on me. He tried- he wanted-"

"Enough of this crying, child! None of this will work on me. You think I haven't seen this all before? Oh yes, your mother behaved the same way! Who could resist a woman's tears?"

"Have mercy. Please, don't do this to me. I'd rather die."

"Be careful, Sansa! You just might get your wish, for if it is Petyr's child I will throw you out the moon door without a second thought. You're a whore! Just like your mother was-"

"I'm not!" I cried. I was on my knees now, begging for her to show some sign of mercy, but the obstinate woman would not change her mind. She paced the room back in forth in a blind fury, as she waited for the maester to return. She had nothing else to say to me, Lysa's mind seemed to be occupied with something else. It was only a matter of time till she found out Petyr and I were alone together for the whole afternoon, and when she does figure it out I'm as good as dead.

A knock on the door resounded in my room. Lysa hurried over to the door and I took that small window of opportunity to retrieve a dagger Petyr had given to me and hid it behind my back.  _I'd kill her before I let her harm my child,_ I deliberated, as my grip tightened around the hilt. It was not maester Gaius, however, who stepped the through the room but a guard who stooped low to whisper something in my Aunt's ear. She looked anxious, and quickly followed him out the door, locking it behind her with careful deliberation.

_Now, my time to escape,_  I realized, and sprinted towards the door but she had done something to lock it from the outside. I then ran to my window, but the fifty-foot drop was enough for me to consider another means of escape. I pounded on the door for a whole five minutes, but no one was there to open the door for me.  _Where is Eileen? Where is Petyr? Is there no one here to save me?_ I ran over to my chest and put on the warmest clothes I could find. Something told me I needed to be ready for anything, any small chance of hope I'll willingly take as long as I could save the thing that was growing inside of me. I leaned next to the wall, dagger in hand and waited for someone to open the door, so I could attack them unaware. I stayed this way for what felt like another five minutes before the door opened and I placed the sharp dagger against the lily-white neck of a small woman. It took me a second to realize it was Eileen with a dinner tray in hand.

"Alayne?" she asked, while eyeing me from the corner of her eyes.

I lowered the dagger away from her neck and rapped out, "Where's Petyr?"

She blinked at me in surprise, since this was the first time I had ever referred to him by his first name. The cat was out the bag, there was no need to hide the truth further.

"He was gone… he was…" she hesitated.

"You can tell me," I said quickly, as I took the tray away from her.

"Exploring unknown caverns throughout the castle. Secret passages and such."

"Where is he now?" I asked, hardly surprised by what she told me.

"He's in his solar, I think."

"Come with me," I urged her, and took her hand in mine. We ran down the hallway, down the flight of stairs and past half-suspicious guards till I reached the solar room. I told Eileen to wait outside and stay on guard for me, before I bolted open the door. He wasn't there, and I found myself panicking as I took in the eerie silence of the room.

"He's not here!" I exclaimed, as I shut the door behind me. "Eileen, where is he?"

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "What is wrong? Tell me, so I can help you."

"There is nothing you can do. I need to find Petyr, and I need to find him now!" As if in answer we heard a loud shrill coming from Lysa echoing down the hall. "Follow me!"

We fled down the narrow hallway until we reached the sky-blue doors of the courtroom, the falcon sigil was painted on the outside, an ominous warning not to enter that sacred room unless I was summoned. Still, the terrible screams coming from Lysa would not turn me away, cost what it may. "Eileen, find Maester Gaius. Follow him and report back to Petyr or I whatever he does. And if he tries to force something down my throat, for god's sake don't let him do it!" With one last parting look, I held her child-like hand in mine and gently squeezed it as a final farewell. I did not know why, but it felt like we were parting forever. Once I passed those doors, I knew I was walking straight to my death.

* * *

"If it's not your child than let me give her the moon tea."

"Let her keep the child," Petyr urged. "It would only make her unhappy if you should take it from her. She has already lost Ser Dale, and now you want her to lose his child as well."

"If you knew he was the father why did you keep it from me?" Aunt Lysa shrilled, as she took a step towards her husband. They were completely alone in the courtroom; the room was pitch-black aside from a few lamps strung along the wall. The open balcony behind them showed the marvelous twilight sky and the large flakes of snow that continued to flutter its way into the room. The moon door was not far behind, and I feared Lysa in her anger would throw Petyr and I out if she should learn the truth.

"I did not want to worry you. You have had so many things troubling you over these past several months, and I did not want to burden you further."

"She was supposed to marry my son!"

"I know, Lysa, but there is nothing we can do about that now."

"We should send her away."

"I agree."

"After we give her the moon tea."

"You would not do such a thing. My wife is too kind, and caring to commit such a-"

"You don't think I'm capable of it!" she interjected. "I'd throw her out the moon door if I found out it was you who did it!"

"Then it's a good thing, it wasn't me," Petyr said smoothly. Lysa's back was to me, but I knew Petyr could see me standing in front of the half-opened door. The moment his eyes caught mine I felt my courage rise, and I stepped further into the room.

"Still, you have not told me who has been sleeping with her as of late?"

"Am I to know everything?" Petyr asked slyly from the corner of his mouth. "Besides, we all have our needs."

"We do, just as long as she isn't having it with you."

"Oh, my silly wife," Petyr said, as he took a step towards her. "I have loved no one, but you."

"Please, just let her drink the tea and then send her away. No one needs to know what she has done."

"You know I can't do that," he said in a strained voice. His eyes glanced over her shoulders and burrowed into mine. I could feel the heat of his rays, it was beckoning me further though I hardly knew why. Petyr placed his hands at the sides of his wife's shoulder and rubbed it coaxingly, while his eyes continued to connect with mine.

"Lysa I think you should know that I have loved only one person my entire life," Petyr paused, as he let a small smile tugged at the corner of his lip. "And she is standing right here in front of me," he added, before he swiveled his wife around and made her face me. "She is beautiful, isn't she? I can only imagine  _our_  child will be more so. It is a pity that you won't be there to see it," he uttered, and without warning he shoved her through the open moon door and watched her body cascade into the pit of darkness.

"You killed her," I breathed, after her screams died away.

"A necessary evil," he remarked, as he made his way towards me. He wrapped his arms around me and endowed me with a kiss on my brow. His fingers gently caressed the sides of his cheeks as he looked at me lovingly. "I promised I would never let her hurt you."

"And you kept your word," I mused. I could smell the fresh waft of mint coming from his mouth as he inched it forward. I tilted my head upwards and kissed him hungry, it gave me a sick pleasure to know I could kiss him this way, even after all that we've done.

"Sansa," Petyr breathed, after he broke his lips apart from mine. "I love you, you must remember that always."

"I know you do."

"No, I  _need_ you to remember this," he said, before he leaned in and kissed me lips passionately.  _Why did it feel like it was the last time,_  I thought, as he broke away from my grip and steadily walked backwards. "Do you trust me, Sansa?"

"Yes, of course."

"Because I need you to trust me now… more than ever."

"Petyr, I do!"

"Good. Because your going to need it," he breathed. He suddenly sprinted away from me and opened the courtroom doors. "Guards!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. A handful of guards stormed into the room, and only when they stood beside him did Petyr point his finger in my direction and bellowed, "Arrest her! She just killed my wife."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine you are all screaming at your computer screens right now, but please comment below and let me know what you think. Whether that would be angry, sad or just plain confused I'd really like to hear your reactions. Hopefully, none of you wish to throw me down the moon door as well lol


	17. The Lord's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

“I want to see her fly!” Sweet Robin said bitterly, he was being held back by some of the guards who were quick to catch him before he jumped on top of me. His dark brown eyes swelled up with tears, it had been that way ever since he was given the news this morning. “She killed her! She killed my mother!”

“You must control yourself,” Lord Royce urged. “This is no place for violent outbursts.”

“I don’t care!” he spitted, as he tried to wriggle out of their grip. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves a fair trial, my Lord. Even if they do not _deserve_ it.”

Sweet Robin grew exhausted from his efforts and slumped over in the guard’s arm. He was weeping bitterly, his cries drowning out any sensible words that were coming out of Lord Royce’s mouth. My trial could not continue- not when Sweet Robin burst into violent tears as he bemoaned over his recently deceased mother.

Petyr walked over to the Eyrie council and whispered something into Lord Royce’s ear. They both seemed to agree on the matter, for they nodded their heads in silent agreement before Lord Royce motioned the guards to take the young lord away. “I am sorry Lord Robin, but we cannot continue this trial when you are making such a noise. Perhaps, when you are feeling quite better you can come back.”

The boy pounded his chest in fury, pulling at his hair as though he was possessed. “No! You can’t- can’t…”

“Take him away,” Petyr ordered, his tone was firm enough for the guards to grapple at the boy’s waist and drag him away.

“Nooooo!” echoed throughout the room, until the door was promptly shut behind him. It could still be heard as they dragged him across the long halls of the Vale.

“Finally, we can have some order,” a frail looking woman said as she rose up from her chair. Lady Rosaline was a part of the small council, her long shawl swishing across the floor as she approached me. She looked me up and down with a careful eye, those cool hazel eyes narrowed as she took in my physiognomy. “You don’t look like your father-”

“I take after my mother,” I interrupted. Another lie I was well-versed in, it was unfortunate I didn’t have time to rehearse for this one. I was still shivering from the night before, it had been a long, sleepless night in my open imprisonment. When I say open, I mean to say the open cavern they left me in once the guards took hold of me and carried me out of the royal courtroom. It had not been used since Tyrion Lannister’s short imprisonment, how very fitting that I should be his predecessor.

“That is the most logical explanation,” Lady Rosaline prompted up, after she contemplated the coolness of my frosty blue eyes. “You look very much like….”

I sucked in my cheeks, fearing she wouldn’t utter the name that would send Petyr and I through the moon door one after another _. I can only hope he’ll be the one to fall down first, after everything he put me through,_ I thought bitterly, and shot a venomous glance in his direction.

“No… you’re a bastard. It could never be,” she reasoned. “We have already heard your father’s evidence. It is now your turn to explain your actions and why Lady Lysa is no longer with us.”

“I will tell you anything you want,” I said sweetly, like a bird that was mocking Petyr’s song. “Everything my father has told you is true.”

“Still, I want to hear it from your lips.”

“Very well,” I said coolly. “What would you like to know?”

“Did you push Lady Lysa out the moon door?”

I felt something caught in my throat, like the wind was knocked out of me. _Should I tell her the truth? Or a lie?_ I glanced at Petyr and saw the calmness in his grey-green eyes, as if he already foresaw this coming. _Why does he look so serene when my entire life is hanging by a thread? When our child’s life is at stake?_

“A question has been posed to you, Alayne,” Lord Royce rapped out. “You _must_ answer the question.”

“Yes,” I said wearily.

“Yes? You killed her,” Lady Rosaline questioned.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“She was going to kill my child.”

“You are pregnant?”

“I am. Two months to be exact.”

“Who is the father?” Lord Royce asked, as he took a step forward. “Lord Baelish you forgot to let this out!”

“You never asked me the reason she did this,” Lord Baelish said smoothly, as he leaned himself off the wall. “You simply asked me who _murdered_ my wife.”

“This is an important detail that you should have not let out,” Lord Rosaline interjected, after she turned to face the sole witness of this tragedy.

“Would you have been merciful to her if you knew the truth? Does it pain you to know you are not only condemning one person, but two?”

“We don’t need to hear your snide remarks, Lord Baelish,” Lord Royce bellowed. “I hope you don’t forget your place.”

“I hardly know what you mean.”

“Oh? Your being cunning now?”

“I would hardly use that word to describe myself.”

 _What the hell is he doing? Why is he angering the only man who may have a chance to save me?_ Even Lady Rosaline did not look pleased by this ensuing conflict. _If only I could knock some sense into Petyr._

“Believe me, I would use a far worse word if were not in the presence of young ladies.”

“I’m intrigued, please, do tell,” Petyr said slyly, as he sauntered over to the man.

“I have no idea why Lady Lysa decided to marry you of all people.”

“I understand she rejected your hand, did she not? I can only hope your personal feelings won’t get in the way of these legal proceedings.”

“I can give you my full assurance that I will be unbiased. It is you as a witness that should be questioned.”

“You insult me,” Petyr gibed, half a smile now crept across his face.

“You did not tell us she was pregnant.”

“Perhaps, it was because I was too ashamed to admit the truth. I am aware of the failings of a being a bastard, but I had hoped Alayne would rise above that.”

“Bastard blood is the worst!” Lord Royce agreed. “I can only hope the father is willing to take her on.”

“He’s dead,” I piped up, trying to make my voice sound as strained as possible. I wiped away an idle tear, hoping it would gain me some sympathy from the onlookers.

“Who is it, my child?” Lady Rosaline asked, as she took slow step towards me. “Surely, there is no reason to hold the truth back now?”

“It was Ser Dale. I loved him, and he loved me. He didn’t care that I was a bastard. He wanted to marry me and take me away from all this war and endless conflict. By the time I figured out I was pregnant it was too late, he- he…”

“Died trying to save her life,” Petyr said softly. He took a step forward and faced the council members. “He fought bravely at the battle on King’s Road when we were ambushed by an army of bandits.”

“I was there. I can attest that everything she said is true,” Lord Royce said clearly.

“Lady Lysa found out last night when she had one of her maester’s examine me. She didn’t let me have time to explain, she just ordered Maester Gaius to make me moon tea-”

“Where is Maester Gaius?” Lord Royce asked, as he turned to look at his fellow council men. “He should be hear to testify.”

“He has been missing since last night,” Petyr said slyly, his face dead-pan as he uttered the words. I could see the fire burning in his eyes, a faint amusement at whatever fate fell upon the poor man.

“I want the Vale to be turned upside down until you find that man, do you understand?” Lord Royce ordered to the last remaining guards in the trial room. “And don’t come back till you find him!”

“Finish your story, child,” Lady Rosaline chided, once the guards had left the room.

“I went to look for my father. I wanted to explain- to tell him the truth. I found them both in the courtroom arguing about whether they should keep the child. Lysa was so determined to kill the thing that is growing inside of me. My father reasoned with her, but she would hear no word of truth. She came to me and grappled her hands around my waist, she was trying to send me back to the maester. I was afraid- so very, very afraid. A madness must have come over me, for as soon as she laid a hand near my stomach I- I pushed her through the moon door. I killed her. I took a life… to save a life.”

“A life that is not yet born,” Lord Royce reminded me with a grave expression. “I think we can all agree on the verdict?”

The council men looked at one another in silent agreement. “Alayne Stone, did your father have any time to stop this from happening?”

“No, it was all so sudden. He couldn’t have- even if he wanted too.”

“Lord Baelish?”

“It happened to quickly,” Petyr said, his brogue heavy as he uttered the words. His eye looked dim, too dim for my liking. _Was this not his plan all along?_ The way his chest heaved as he turned his head away from me, made a nervous chill run down my spine. _Maybe things aren’t going the way he expected,_ I thought, once he let out a long uncontrolled sigh.

“If you believe Alayne Stone should be condemned for her crimes raise your hand?” Every single hand in the room raised, except for Petyr and I. “Then the decision is final. Alayne you are found guilty…”

The room felt like it was getting darker, as I felt a rush of blood to my head. _This can’t be happening,_ I panicked, as my eyes locked onto Petyr. _He has a plan to get me out of this, doesn’t he?_

“You will be served the same punishment as the one you gave to Lady Lysa…”

 _No, no, no! This isn’t real?_ I griped at the sides of my clothing, wringing my fingers down the torn shawl that they gave me before I entered the room. _Petyr wouldn’t do this to me? He wouldn’t do this to our child? He’s cunning, manipulative, moral less, but he wouldn’t do this to me?_

“Take her away,” Lord Royce said gravely, swinging his hand away as though I was a pesky fly, a bothersome thing that he no longer wished to see.

“Please,” I begged, as two guards took a hold of me. “My child!”

“I’m so sorry,” Lady Rosaline said, before they dragged me past her.

“Pet- Father, please,” I shrilled, as they took me past him as well. I reached out to him, but they snatched my hand away and held it behind my back. “Don’t let them do this.”

Petyr opened his mouth, but no words could come out. His grey-green eyes were cloudy, threatening to swell up with tears. Words trembled on his lips, but no audible sound was heard as they dragged me away from him. Our eyes were locked, held there for what felt like an eternity, and then a darkness came over me and all I could see was a large ebony door being shut. “No,” I breathed, while they dragged me away and with one last effort I held out my hand, as if I could still feel the warmth of his hand in mine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am interested in hearing your theories on how Petyr is going to get Sansa out of this mess. Comment below if you have any ideas on how he will bring down "The Lord's Wrath" to save Sansa and his child?
> 
> And if you want to throw me out the moon door after this chapter I fully understand.
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish


	18. The Dark Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insp.  
> Love always holds true,  
> Even in the darkest of   
> times. Do not worry   
> About tomorrow, or   
> The next, instead,   
> Focus on his steady   
> breathing- the gentle  
>  rising of his chest.
> 
> Love always holds true,  
> Even as the storm rages,  
> And the sea roars in terror,  
> And the thunder claps,  
> And the lightening flickers,  
> And the wind howls,  
> All through the night,  
> Oh, even then, true   
> love waits. Yes, true  
> love waits.
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish

A high pitch squeal startled me, as I rose my head off the stony ground. I turned my head to see two large men storm into my prison cell. _Now, is my time to escape,_ I thought, and I jumped off the ground to sprint out the door, but their large hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground.

“No! Let me go!” I screamed and kicked at the man closest to me. He grunted and was about to strike me when the eldest guard stopped him. They exchanged hateful glances before the younger man pulled out a long white cloth and held it before my eyes.

“This will shut her up!” he mocked, his long sandy hair half covering those stony, hateful eyes. He stuffed it in my mouth and wrapped the edges around the back of my head until any sound I made was muffled. “Take her away.”

I wriggled out of the eldest guard’s arms and sprinted towards the door. I opened it to find four more burly looking men standing outside the doorway, a woman’s body was held in their hands, and by the drooping of her hand I knew she was dead. I backed away, frightened by the likeness of the figure, it looked almost like…

“Stop her!” one of the men yelled, and the youngest man snuck up behind me to enrapture me in his arms.

“You didn’t think it was that easy, did you?” he said in a frightful voice, and swiveled me around with malice. “Do you see that woman over there? That’s you, my sweet.”

The men worked together to sprawl the woman’s body across the floor, replicating my exact posture only moments before. As if in sync they all took a step away, and let a man pass them all with a blazing red torch in his hand.

“Light her up!”

The torch was pressed against the corpse face and then on her chest; the flames flickered ferociously until it grew into a massive flame engulfing the whole body. _That would have been me,_ I thought, as they pulled me out of the prison cell.

“Come on! We haven’t much time,” shouted the eldest man, it was clear he was the leader of the party with his short grey hair and thickened beard. The men followed him out the door, but they suddenly took different directions down the hallways. I was carried down the right hallway, while half of them ran down the left which would lead them to the upper levels of the Vale. _Petyr,_ I thought worriedly, as I noticed the sharp weapons each man was carrying in their hands.

“Tie her up.” They men did as they were told and tied up my wrists and ankles with rope, before they lifted me up the ground. “Good, now come along,” the old man urged, and felt the walls expanse until he found what he was looking for. The wall opened for them and he smiled gleefully before he stepped into the shadowy darkness.

I whimpered with fear, the hidden passageway looked to narrow and dark for my liking. I tried to wriggle free, but it was no use, the men only held me tighter before they carried me through the dimly lighted passageway.

“Hurry!” a deep voice echoed in the darkness, it bounced off the stony walls around us. We could hear screams coming from the other side of the walls, as if chaos had erupted on the once quiet castle. It was blood curdling screams that vibrated and trembled through the narrow passageway, it could even be heard in the upper levels where the Lords and Ladies resided for the night.

_What’s going on? I’m so confused._ The passageway seemed to be stretch on for ages, as they carried me down the straight and narrow pass, never ceasing even when they heard awful cries from the other side of the walls.

“Fire!” Lord Royce’s voice could be heard somewhere in the distance, perhaps, he was on the other side of the wall. “It’s all over the upper levels. Quick man! Give me some water, anything will do! Lord Robin is up there.”

“My men tell me the fire is all over the upper levels,” Petyr said, his voice held a strange tremor. “We may be too late.”

“Well, there is only one way to find out.”

“I shall come with you,” Petyr said. “You’ll need all the help you can get.”

“Aye, that is true.”

“Wait! Could the fire be near the prison cells as well. Because if it is that means-”

“Where are you going?” Lord Royce yelled out, as the heavy footsteps echoed off the walls.

“Alayne! I have to save her!” Petyr shouted back, a panic could be heard in his voice.

_I’m right here,_ I wanted to scream.

“Leave her! It’s too late! This will be better than a public execution,” reasoned Lord Royce, but his efforts were in vain. Silence fell upon us all, as the men carried me down the passageway further until there was no other sound but distant screaming and the burning of wood. Smoke was even seeping its way into our darkened hallway, and I found myself coughing into the snowy white cloth wrapped around my mouth.

“Alright, we made it. Now cover her face, lest she see something she won’t like.” I felt a rough cloth slither around my face until the world was pitch black all around me. They lifted me higher into the air, and I felt a rush of cold air hit me as they undoubtedly opened a doorway.

Their footsteps shuffled down a cobbled pathway, it was slowly descending to god knows where. Finally, after a few minutes of them walking down the cobbled stretch I heard the heavy breathing of a horse, as the heated breaths escaped its nostrils. “Alright lads, put her up.”

I found myself pressed against a large figure the minute I was hoisted up on a horse, firm arms wrapped around me as he reached for something in front of him. I heard the horse whimper, and the movement of its head being thrust up with attention. “Alright, you know your instructions. See it through!”

“Good luck,” one of the voices said, before the group of men bid the stranger behind me a final farewell. I heard a smack on the backside of the horse before it lifted into the air with energy and flew down the cobbled path that could only lead to darkness.

_Petyr, where are you? Find me, please, just find me,_ I thought, as the air grew stifling cold and cluster of snow fell upon my chilly form. I was not dressed for this cold weather, and the blustering artic wind only made matters worse. I nuzzled against the towering figure behind me, hoping to feel some of his warmth but it was no use, he was nothing like Petyr who always seemed to be warm to the touch. I whimpered with pain, or was it sadness that made my head bend down with dismay? If I had enough strength I would have cried, but no tears could come to me now- not when the life of my child was at stake.

_What do they want with me? Do they know who I am? Does Petyr have something to do with this? No, he couldn’t have,_ I deliberated, _not when he was so anxious to save me from the fire. What will he do when he see’s that burnt corpse at the edge of the cliffs and see the last of the fire kindling the withered form? What will he become when he realizes he’s not only lost me, but my child as well?_

_What has become of us,_ I wondered, as I settled my frozen hands at the bottom of my stomach. _What will become of us all?_

* * *

My eyes blinked open to see the orange sun rising in the east, it glittered over the snowy mountain tops overhead. _It’s beautiful,_ I thought, before I remembered everything that had happened the night before. _Petyr,_ I mouthed, and found that the white cloth was removed from my face. I turned my head to see a fire nearby and the elderly man eating a half-burnt fish. He smiled at me and lifted the last of his breakfast in front of me. “So, you’ve awaken at last?”

“Where am I?”

“Far away from harm.”

“Why did you take me away?” I asked, as I rose myself from the ground. It was a struggle since my wrists and ankles were still tightly knotted together.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said slyly, after he took a large bite of the charcoal coloured flesh.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t,” he said, while he shrugged his shoulders at me lazily. Another form appeared behind him, it was a young man with auburn coloured hair, it curled effortlessly atop his head. He looked at me and gave me a satisfied nod of his head. He went over to the older man and sat down beside him, offered him a loaf of bread.

“She’s awfully pretty, isn’t she?” he remarked. “No wonder they were so desperate to have her.”

“Aye, she’s worth a pretty penny.”

“Would you like some bread, miss?” the young man asked, as he took a cautious step towards me.

“Yes,” I said softly, and held the slice of bread gratefully in my hand. It felt like ages since I’ve had a proper morsel to eat.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he said, as he took a seat next to me. “Os and I only want to deliver you safely into the master’s hands, that’s all.”

“And if you cooperate with us, we’ll free your hands and feet,” Os pointed out, as he pointed his wrinkled fingers in my direction.

“We’ll be good to you, I swear,” the young man added, as he inched himself closer to me.

“Then let me go back. Set me free,” I pleaded.

“You were going to die in a matter of hours. You should be grateful we came when we did.”

“I don’t care,” I whined.

“There’s nothing for you back there.”

“Your wrong,” I said woodenly, and moved myself away from him.

“You and your child will be safe,” Os chided, after he threw the remains of his breakfast into the fire. “That’s all that matters now.”

* * *

It had been weeks since I last saw Petyr, it all felt like a memory now, a thing that never happened to me. It happened to someone else, it was Sansa Stark that fell in love with Petyr Baelish; it was Alayne Stone that was being dragged across the beaten tracks of the Eyrie, heading towards an unknown destination with nothing but the soiled clothes on my back. Os’ words had been true, he took good care of me and payed particular attention to the rising swell at the bottom of my stomach. He would often place me upon his horse in grave silence and lead me down the treacherous paths, careful that no harm should come to my child and I.

Os was silent for most of his journey, alert of any potential danger that might fall upon us in the darkened forests. Carl, however, was an amiable companion for most of the journey. He told me lots of funny stories of his sell-swords days and how he wanted to be a knight, but he was careful to leave out any information that might help me rationalize his true intentions for me and my child. He wanted to be rich as well and hoped he would be as rich as the Lannisters one day. “I wouldn’t mind marrying the Queen if she’d have me,” he said, as he ducked low to avoid a tree branch.

“Margaery?”

“What? No! I meant Cersei Lannister. Margery is dead, didn’t you know?”

“Oh! Yes, of course. I forgot.”

“How could you forget that! The entire Sept engulfed in a green flame,” he laughed. “Now, that is a woman I’d like… strong and fierce like a lion.”

_More like a raging lunatic,_ I thought, as I looked away from him.

“How much further, Os? I’m getting hungry.”

“Your always hungry,” he scowled with a gruff voice.

“I’m a growing boy,” he teased, and flickered his sword around in the air as if he was facing an opponent.

“We won’t stop till nightfall.”

“That’s not enough time to eat.”

“We’ll have left overs.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

“Seven hells! What have I got myself into?” Carl asked airily. “I know the pay is good, but is it worth it?”

“Enough talking-”

“I know someone who will pay us three times the price.”

“Enough-”

“I might even get a knighthood.”

“Carl,” warned Os, his huge knuckled hands tightened around the horse’s bridle. “Don’t say another word.”

“Or what? You’ve been thinking the same thing, just admit it.”

“No.”

“If we give her over to the Lannister’s or even the Vale-”

“You know too much,” Os said, as he unsheathed his sword.

“It doesn’t take long to put two and two together, my friend. Why else would we have to go to such an extreme to take her there.”

Os approached him with a defensive stance, keenly aware of the short dagger Carl was now holding in his hand.

“Think about it! If she really is Sansa Stark, which I think she is by this point since her hair has taken on that familiar shade of-”

Os pounced on him like a tiger and threw him to the floor, his sword glazing the wiry neck of Carl. “We are not doing that.”

“Why are you so quick to serve him. What has he ever done for you? Think of it, Oswell, think of the money that will be poured on our laps if we give her in.”

“You’re a bloody fool, you know that?”

“I’m clever! You know what I say is right!”

“Yes,” the haggard looking man said as he lifted the boy up on his feet. “We’ll give her to the Lannisters.”

“I knew you’d come around eventually, old man,” Carl said, the moment he clapped his hand at the side of Os’ arm. “We’ll be as rich as Littlefinger. Maybe I’ll even buy myself a brothel like him. Imagine, Os, women as far as the eye can see, and if they look like her…” he pointed in my direction now with a lustful look in his eye, “Then I’ll truly be a happy man. Now, tell me, my sweet, has Littlefinger’s finger truly been busy?”

Carl’s smug suddenly fell from his face when a sword pierced through his back, the tip of the sword glistened at the front of his chest with a ruby red hue. Os pulled his sword out with distaste and watched the man crumble to the ground. “Don’t say a word,” Os warned, before he went over to Carl’s horse and lead it towards mine. “I’ve been dying to do that the moment I set eyes on him,” he said through crooked teeth, and for once he genuinely smiled at me to my surprise. “Let’s go before it gets to dark,” he noted, and leapt on his horse before he steered it away from me.

I knew that smile, I had seen a similar one only once before- _Kettleback,_ I realized, and with a shake of my head I followed the grizzled man-at-arms into the frosty covered forest.


	19. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

I could hear Oswell a few feet behind me, cutting up large chunks of wood for the fire. He had sent me out to gather some more wood, enough to sustain us for the long winter night that was fast approaching. As I was rummaging my hand over the forest floor in search of dry wood I heard a _crack_ off in the distance. I froze and lifted my head in that direction, and soon found that the noise was getting louder. I held my breath and closed my eyes to force my senses to heighten for a moment, and I heard the soft breathing of a horse and a muffled _squish_ as the horse’s hooves stepped into the snow crusted earth. I opened my eyes and saw a towering man atop of his horse, his features shadowed by the fading sun. He spotted me, and without a second thought I turned and ran for my life. “Os!” I cried out as I jumped over a fallen tree. “Ooossss!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, the moment the horse rode close to my side, rapidly edging itself closer whenever an opening in the trees appeared.

“What is it?” he shouted, as he ran towards me with his axe in one hand and his faithful sword in the other. “Who’s there?”

“I don’t know,” I breathed, after I fled to his side and hid behind him in trembling fear.

“Just stay behind me, you here?” he growled. Oswell stood upright and stared down the stranger that was fast approaching, it wasn’t until the horseman rode into faded light that Os’ entire demeanor changed. “Bless my soul! It’s good to see you again, Braes!”

_Braes,_ I thought, and took a step forward to get a better look at the man. I noticed there was someone else behind him, once a boy’s head popped up to get a quick peak at Oswell and I. The horse halted in front of us and the strange man gave us a whimsical smile before he dropped down to the floor. He helped the boy off the horse, messing up his hair with affectionate, and then guided the boy towards us. “Kettleback,” the man said with amusement. “Never thought I’d see you here.”

“Well, you know how it is,” Oswell said, as he gave the man a hug, as though they were long-lost brothers. “Got to follow the master’s orders.”

“I hear you,” the man said with a sly smile. His dark brown eyes wandered over to me, and he looked at me with a silent appreciation. “So, my brother really was a lucky man.”

I looked away shyly, for the weight of his gaze made me uneasy. _He looks so much like Dale,_ I thought, and the realization of it made it harder to bear.

“I heard he fought bravely,” the man said softly. “And that he died honourably. I am glad to hear that. I know Dale wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A small smile graced my lips at the remembrance of him, as a flood of happy memories came rushing back to me. “He sacrificed himself to save my life,” I assured the tall gentlemen who stood before me now. He had the same soft brown eyes as Dale, but his chestnut coloured hair was cut short to reveal the sharp lines in his face. He did not have the air of a knight, but it was still imposing as he stared down at me.

“How did you find us?” Oswell asked, as he laid a hand on top of the man’s shoulders affectionately.

“I simply followed instructions.”

“Aye, we took a little bit longer than I intended. We had a bit of a- well, you know how it is…”

“I wish I could say I’m surprised Carl didn’t make it?”

“He lasted more than a few weeks, so you shouldn’t be so hard on him,” Oswell teased, after he patted the man in the back. “We were just about to have a fire. You and your boy can sit down, and dinner will be ready in no time at all.”

“We will help,” Braes replied with an air of finality. “It will speed things up a bit.”

The three of us worked together to gather the last of the wood, so Oswell could start a fire with his experienced hands. It wasn’t until we were all sitting down in front of the roaring fire that Braes took a seat next to me and held out his hand. “Bryden Braes, is my name. Never really told you who I was,” he said sheepishly. “I know all about you though.”

“Oh,” I said with a certain level of surprise. “That seems to be the recurring theme around here. Oswell knows everything about me, but tells me nothing.”

“He’s just following instructions.”

“ _Who’s_ instructions?”

“Who would send me here to protect you, Sansa?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Who knew you and I would trust each other instinctively, even if we never met before?”

“I don’t know. Dale?”

“No. Who else?” he asked with amusement, bumping his shoulder onto mine to encourage me on.

“Petyr?”

“Yes,” he replied, and threw a twig into the fire with satisfaction. “It was _your_ Lord Baelish that sent me here.”

I felt a warmth tingle all over me at the mention of his name. _How long have I heard the mention of his name till now? Weeks? Months? It feels like ages since another living soul mentioned his name._

“He wanted me to give you this,” Bryden remarked, as he pulled something out of his coat pocket. “I kept it safe for you.”

A silver mockingbird pin was placed into my hand, and the sight of it made my eyes swell up with tears. I pressed into my heart lovingly, feeling a part of him was with me now.

“He also told me to give this to you,” Bryden added, as he got up to dig something out of his inner pockets of his pants. It was a square piece of paper, tightly folded up so that no one could read it aside from myself with a sealed mockingbird pin pressed to the center. “I’ll let you have time to read it. I can tell it makes you happy,” he said with a lopsided grin, and motioned his son to move away from me so I could be left alone to my own peaceful solitude. I opened the neatly folded letter and read the following:

My sweet Sansa,

By the time you get this letter you will be leagues away from the Vale. Maybe then, will all my worries cease to plague me, once I am certain you and our child are out of harm’s way.

Let me begin by saying I’m so, so sorry.

I’m sorry for all of the pain I put you through. I’m sorry that I blamed you, my love, for your Aunt Lysa’s death. I’m sorry for putting you on trial, and making you go through that horrible pantomime, that farcical trial that inevitably humbled me as well as yourself. I thought I was like a god, invincible, until the Eyrie’s council condemned you to death. It was only then that I realized my own hubris, and that not even I can escape gods judgement forever. I most certainty felt the Lord’s wrath that day… I felt it when the guards’ dragged you out of the trial room and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I was a fool. I assumed that the council would be merciful towards you because you were with child, and I was wrong. It was a harsh lesson that day, but I learned two valuable lessons once they shut the door on me, ultimately, shutting you out of my life forever. First, even the most dangerous men can be out maneuvered, including myself. Second, I will never risk your life and the life of our child on a gamble like that, it made me realize how important you our to me, and I shall never take a risk like that again.

It has been hard without you, my sweet, not one second goes by that I don’t regret the things that I have done to you, as the remembrance of you weighs so heavily upon me. It pains me to imagine the pain I put you through, and I can only hope you can forgive me in time.

I want you to know that the Iron Throne means nothing now. I will never get tired of playing the game of thrones and can only hope our child will be an avid player at it. But for now, the most important thing in my life is you, Sansa, and the child that is growing inside of you at this very minute. With that fixtured solidly in my mind’s eye, how can I be in want of anything else? 

And I know, I promised you that I would protect you and never leave your side. I have broken both promises much to my dismay. And for that I apologize and hope you will learn to trust me again. After all, who else is there to trust when we are so alike? Sometimes, I feel like we are two halves of the same soul. I was right when I said so very long ago, that I am the darkness to your light, and you are the light to my darkness. I need you, just as much as you need me. And for that reason, I swear to you, Sansa, that I will never let you go.  

So many men, they risk so little. They spend their lives avoiding danger. Then they die. I risk everything to get what I want. And what do I want more than anything else in the world? You, my love, that is all my heart desires now. Look to the stars and count the days for I will be with you soon. Stay strong for me and our child.

Forever yours, Petyr Baelish.

 


	20. Wait for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Baelish has successfully smuggled Sansa Stark out of King's Landing, and is now sailing northwards towards the Vale. As usual, everything is going according to plan for Lord Baelish, until he begins to take an interest in the innocent, yet beautiful orphaned Stark girl. Only then do his plans take a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I sit in front of my writing desk listening to Keaton Heason’s “You” on repeat, I realize just how far I have come on this fanciful journey as a writer, and how much time I have invested in this story that I have grown to love over these past several months. I’d like to thank you all for taking the time to read this fic. Your comments and likes have encouraged me to go on, even when I struggled with my own doubts and fears. I could not have done it without you. I’d like to thank @Quoyan_XI especially, for always being there to listen to my strange ideas for this fic and others that will most certainty follow in the near future. Its been a ride, but I hope you all enjoyed the climb.
> 
> \- petyrbaaaeeelish

I was resting underneath a shady bower, watching the young boy, Wyatt, play with the snow. He was building a snow castle, like the one he had often seen in his dreams. It reminded me of Winterfell, it reminded me of home.

 Bryden quietly sat beside me, crossing his legs with careless ease before he turned his head to look at me. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

 “I was thinking…”

 “About?” he asked in a calm voice, mirroring the peaceful surroundings around us.

 “Home. Where you guys are taking me? If I’ll ever see Petyr again?”

 "You’ll see him. You just need to be patient, that’s all.”

 “It’s been nearly a month since you gave me that letter and we’re still traveling.”

 “On foot, mind you. If we all had horses’ it would be much faster. Look, I know you don’t see it but we’re doing the best we can.”

 “I know. I’m sorry, Bryden, I just get frustrated sometimes-”

 “Which is totally understandable,” he interrupted. “Seeing how head over heels you are about Lord Baelish.”

 I turned my head in surprise, not seeing this coming at all.

 “I think it’s safe to assume that Dale is not the father-”

 “Bryden…”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain. I had my suspicion for a while now. Besides, anyone who pretends to be your father for that long is bound to…”

“To what?”

“I don’t know. Fall in love with you?”

“Are you angry with me,” I said quietly, as I continued to watch Wyatt heap large mounds of snow together.

“I’m disappointed, that’s all. I wish you told me the _truth_ , but I suppose that’s asking to much of you.”

“What does that mean?” I asked defensively.

“Anyone who spends that much time with Littlefinger is bound to get corrupted. I just though you were different.”

“And who are you to judge?”

“Look… you know what… forget I said anything!” He stood up and brushed off the snow before he turned to leave.

“Bry, wait! I’m sorry for lying to you. I should have told you the truth. I did love Dale… just not in that way.”

“I understand,” he said solemnly. He offered me a small smile before he turned to leave.  

I sighed and went over to the small boy, taking in the rapid movements of his hands as he built the snowy walls. _I wonder if Petyr would like a boy,_ I wondered, _or a pretty little girl with bright auburn hair?_ I rubbed my stomach profusely, wishing Petyr was here to see the largeness of my stomach. I let out a long sigh, trying to fight back the tempest of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Did you make a garden?” I asked, hoping much trivial conversation would distract me from my fit of melancholy.

“I don’t like gardens.”

“Oh? But you need a garden. How else will you get fresh vegetables?”

“I guess,” he said moodily, the boy was just as wretched as I was.

“Could I build it over here?” I asked and pointed to an empty spot just outside the walls.

“Sure.”

I rolled the snow into a ball in my hands and began to build the garden in companionable silence. _Petyr would be good at this,_ I mused, _he would know exactly how the garden should be laid out. All neat and orderly like everything else he owns._

“Did you have a garden at Winterfell?” the boy asked, after he propped up his head to take a good look at me.

“No. It was too cold. The Vale had beautiful gardens though, even in late autumn some flowers still bloomed.” My cheeks turned a violent shade of red as I remembered the last time Petyr and I were in a garden.

I was alone and miserable as I suffered through my early days of pregnancy, but I found some hope of happiness in the charming gardens of the Vale. Tree, shrub, grass and flower all held their own enticement for me, all capturing my attention in some way. One flower in particular held my attention: an azure blue prairie gentian, the very same one I found next to an aspen white tombstone only a month ago, it brought me back to The Fingers and the happy memories I found amongst the rolling hills and roaring sea of that great land. I picked up this flower again, silently hoping Petyr would appear but to my disappointment he did not. I twirled the flower around my finger aimlessly, watching the blue whirlwind come to life in my hands. The wonderous sight and such memories which flickered across my mind, thus, prompted an old folk song to escape my lips without me meaning to:

_Dream, dream, dream of this plent’ful land,_

_Dream, dream, dream of the sapphire sand,_

_Dream of the crystal-clear mountain tops,_

_Where we watched the sun in the morning._

A deep voice amongst the untamed brambles behind me suddenly sung out:

_Dream, dream, dream of the golden heath,_

_Dream, dream, dream of the silver streams,_

_Dream of the fog ‘cross the rolling heath,_

_Where we watched the sun in the morning._

“Petyr!” I cried out, as I watched his darkened figure appear amongst the thorny bushes.

“Good morning, my love,” he said sweetly. His hands reached out to hold my own, eagerly pulling me forward till no gap stood between us. “How’s fitting that I should find you in the garden,” he said in a cheerful voice, the corner of his lip curling into a mischievous smile.

“You were looking for me?”

“When am I not looking for you,” he bemoaned, before he leaned in to kiss me. “I miss you.”

“But you saw me at breakfast this morning!”

“That’s not the same thing, and you know it,” he chided. He cupped my cheeks and looked into my frosty blue eyes with wonder.

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you. What do you see in a person like me?”

“I don’t know,” I teased, while I stroked small circles into the sleeve of his doublet. “A wealthy man that will take care of me.”

“Funny,” he said with scorn, and scolded me with kisses.

 _I should have told him the truth,_ I realized, as I sat in a heap of snow watching Wyatt finish the last of the castle.

“What happened to your garden?” he asked with vague disinterest.

“I- I don’t feel like making a garden anymore,” I said in a strained voice, and got up to leave before my emotions got the better of me.

* * *

The wind softly blew through my auburn tresses, as I stood upon a rocky crag, gazing out at the endless shore. It had been a long journey, but I was sure this is where Petyr intended my journey to end. The early morning dawn was just breaking; a pale purple streak stretched across the cloudless clime, while the small curve of the morning sun threatened to blaze through. I sighed at the beauty, and the wonder of three glorious ships docked at the bay. One of the was meant for me, I was sure of it.

“Come on, Sansa!” Wyatt cried, as he took my hand and led me down the beaten path. The child was giggling with excitement, his sound blending well with the full-hearted song of a skylark overhead. We stepped upon a wooden platform, our forms mingling with other fellow passengers waiting to step aboard the ship. The boy was jumping up and down with excitement now, as we could hear the sailors’ voices singing up above.

“Hold on you two! You need money to get on board the ship, don’t you?” he asked, before he pulled out a pouch full of coins and dropped it in each of our hands. “We’re nearly there.”

I smiled and looked out at the sea, noticing the sudden change from only moments ago. The sea was as green as Petyr’s eyes, so soft and serene it made my heart ache at the sight of it. The sky took on a red hue, snuffing out the last of the pale purple streaks that once graced the sky. The sun was like a beacon of hope as its fierce, awesome rays illuminated the world around me.

“Are you crying, my dear?” Oswell asked, as the bright flavescent light shined upon my face.

“I’m just happy, that’s all.”

“Aye, so am I,” he said. He patted me on the back lightly as he watched the platform level for the passengers, signaling it was now safe to go aboard. We joined the line and waited in silence, as we watched each person go on board the ship at a leisurely pace.

I suddenly recalled the moment Petyr lifted me aboard the ship; the sharp scent of mint hit me when our faces were so close together. _Was that the moment I first fell in love with him? Was it a gradual progression? Or was it sudden like the night when we first made love?_ It didn’t really matter anyways, our love was as boundless as the depths of the sea, endless like the morning sun that rises each day- never ceasing, always hopeful for tomorrow.

How hopeful I was when I placed a handful of coins into a sailor’s hand and stepped onboard the ship. I hardly took in what the men were saying as they steered me toward my open cabin.

“Sansa,” a man said, after he stepped in front of our path. He was a dark man with a foreign air, he wore the Captain’s uniform proudly as he stood upright before us.

“Yes?”

He smiled at me, making his wind burnt face soften as he looked at me. “You’re to come with me.”

Bryden went over to hug me, sensing this was a final farewell. “You take care of that child, you hear,” he chided, after he kissed me at the side of the cheek. Wyatt wrapped himself around my legs, most reluctant to let me go. Oswell laughed at the spectacle and gave me a hug with a twinge of melancholy once he broke our embrace.

“He’ll take care of you better than I ever will,” he reasoned, as he took in the flushed complexion in my once pale cheeks. “I’m happy for the both of you.”

The Captain nodded his head in acknowledgement once I took my place by his side. “You’ll have a much finer cabin than your friends. Don’t worry I’ll make sure they’re taken care of,” he assured me with a strong accent.

“That is good to hear. Where is this ship taking me?”

“Everywhere. We stop all along the northern coasts, and then we sail outwards to Braavos. This is a traveling ship, so everything is designed for your comfort.”

He led me up a narrow wooden staircase and down a darkened hall where no sun could shine through. He stopped at a wide door and uttered, “I can only hope this room meets your satisfaction.”

I placed the key into the golden lock and heard a familiar _chink_ , which brought back memories from long ago. I pushed open the door to find the sunlight blinding me from an open window. A stream of golden light forced its way into my eyes, until a shadowy figure eclipsed it.

“Sansa,” he breathed, before he took a step forward. I fought back the tears, as the sun illuminated his shape.

“Petyr,” I said in a strained voice, my hands reaching out to touch his shadowy form.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, as the golden light made my hair take on a fiery shade of red and the bump in my stomach was revealed in all its glory. He took another step forward with his hands reaching out for mine. “Sansa, I-” his voice broke from the emotion, which quickly overwhelmed him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” I said in a clear voice before I ran towards him and held him in my arms. His restless hands wandered up to cup the sides of my cheeks before he kissed me zealously. Our kisses were long and deep, each starved of each other’s taste.

“Are you crying, my love?” he asked, gingerly wiping away a few tears with the sides of his thumb.

“I missed you, Petyr.”

“And I missed you,” he replied, before he kissed me on my brow. “More than you will ever know.”

I grabbed hold of his doublet and pulled him in, so I could kiss him again.

“Did you lock the door, Sansa?” he asked in a husky voice, a wicked smile was quickly spreading across his lips.

“Lock it for me,” I said with a strange tone of command. “I’ll get out of these filthy traveling clothes. I want you to see me, Petyr, _all_ of me.”

His eyes glistened with expectation. “Oh, I have missed this,” he mused, before he practically ran towards the door. My dress was hardly off before his deft hands tore it down the seams. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he teased, and threw the torn garment to the ground. A sharp inhale escaped his lips once he saw my stomach and he bent down on his knees to kiss it. “My sweet Sansa….”

“Our child will be here before you know it,” I assured him, while playing with his curly locks.

“I’ve been thinking…” he paused to look up at me. “How would you like the idea of our child being raised at The Fingers? Its quiet, secluded and no one will ever know that we’re married, not until the time is right. And its close enough to the Vale for me not to rouse suspicion whenever I’m gone. So, what do you think-”

His words were cut off once I raised him up from the ground and answered him with breathless kisses. He lifted me in the air and looked into my eyes with a loving gaze. “You make me so happy,” he said with a great deal of feeling. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do! You deserve me _and_ our child. The world may see you in one way, but I see you- the man behind the mask and I’m desperately in love with him.”

He lowered me to the ground, his mossy eyes elated with a wild expression. His hands wrapped around my waist, edging me in till there was no gap between us. “I’ll never let you go,” he breathed, and he sealed our fate with a kiss.

Perhaps, the gods had heard my prayers after all, for Petyr had come back to me, and he had no intention of ever leaving me again.

 


End file.
